STILL may the muses foster thee, O Friend, Who, while the vacant quidnuncs stand at gaze, Wond'ring what Prophet next the Fates may send, Still tread'st the ancient ways; Still climb'st the clear-cold altitudes of Song, Or ling'ring 'by the shore of old Romance,' Heed'st not the vogue, how little or how long, Of marvels made in France. Still to the summits may thy face be set, And long may we, that heard thy morning rhyme, Hang on thy noon-day music, nor forget In the hushed even-time! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN LOVE GOES by SARA TEASDALE LAMENT FOR CULLODEN by ROBERT BURNS A PSALM OF LIFE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW CORSICA by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD WITH ILLUSTRATION TO GRAY'S POEMS by WILLIAM BLAKE WRITTEN ON A GLOOMY DAY, IN SICKNESS. THACKWOOD, 4TH JUNE, 1786 by SUSANNA BLAMIRE |