(TO F. G.) WITH slower pen men used to write, Of old, when 'letters' were 'polite'; In ANNA'S, or in GEORGE'S days, They could afford to turn a phrase, Or trim a straggling theme aright. They knew not steam; electric light Not yet had dazed their calmer sight; -- They meted out both blame and praise With slower pen. Too swiftly now the Hours take flight! What's read at morn is dead at night: Scant space have we for Art's delays, Whose breathless thought so briefly stays, We may not work -- ah! would we might! -- With slower pen. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PETIT THE POET by EDGAR LEE MASTERS MAY 30, 1893 by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS ON THE DEITY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD PICTOR IGNOTUS by ROBERT BROWNING THROUGH THE TELESCOPE by SAMUEL VALENTINE COLE ON A DISCOVERY MADE TOO LATE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |