Too hard it is to sing In these untuneful times, When only coin can ring, And no one cares for rhymes! Alas! for him who climbs To Aganippe's spring: Too hard it is to sing In these untuneful times! His kindred clip his wing; His feet the critic limes; If Fame her laurel bring, Old age his forehead rimes: Too hard it is to sing In these untuneful times! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE [EXCELLENT] BALLADE OF CHARITIE by THOMAS CHATTERTON THE SHADOW ON THE STONE by THOMAS HARDY A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING by JOHN SUCKLING THE LAMP [LAMPE] by HENRY VAUGHAN INDIA by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD TO AN ENEMY by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |