(TO J. L. W.) 'MORE Poets yet!' -- I hear him say, Arming his heavy hand to slay; -- 'Despite my skill and "swashing blow," They seem to sprout where'er I go; -- I killed a host but yesterday!' Slash on, O Hercules! You may. Your task's, at best, a Hydra-fray; And though you cut, not less will grow More Poets yet! Too arrogant! For who shall stay The first blind motions of the May? Who shall out-blot the morning glow? -- Or stem the full heart's overflow? Who? There will rise, till Time decay, More Poets yet! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COAT OF FIRE by EDITH SITWELL WOMAN, GALLUP, N.M. by KAREN SWENSON THE BELEAGUERED CITY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE TUFT OF KELP by HERMAN MELVILLE A LOVE SONNET by GEORGE WITHER TO THE DAISY (1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |