As I left my door, The muse came by, Said, "Whither away?" I, well-pleased to praise myself, And in such presence raise myself, Replied, 'To keep thy bards birthday' -- "O happy morn! o happy eve!" -- The muse rejoined, "And dost thou weave For noble night a noble rhyme, And up to song through friendship climb? For every guest Ere he can rest Plucks for my son or flower or fruit In sign of Nature's glad salute." -- 'Alas! thou know'st, Dearest muse, I cannot boast Of any grace from thee: To thy spare bounty, queen, thou ow'st, No verse will flow from me. Beside, the bard himself, profuse In thy accomplishment, Does Comedy & Lyric use, And to thy sisters all too dear, Too gifted, than that he can chuse To raise an eyebrow's hint severe On the toiling good intention Of ill-equipped incomprehension.' "The bard is loyal," Said the queen With haughtier mien, "And hear thou this, my mandate royal: Instant to the Sibyl's chair, To the Delphic maid repair, He has reached the middle date Stars tonight that culminate Shed beams fair & fortunate: Go inquire his horoscope, Half of memory, half of hope." From Paques to Noel, Prophets & Bards, Merlin, Llewellyn, Highborn Hoel, Wellborn Lowell, What said the Sibyl? What was the fortune She sung for him? -- @3"Strength for the hour."@1 Man of marrow, man of mark, Virtue lodged in sinew stark, Rich supplies & never stinted, More behind at need is hinted, Never cumbered with the morrow, Never knew corroding sorrow, Too well gifted to have found Yet his opulence's bound, Most at home in mounting fun, Broadest joke, & luckiest pun, Masking in the mantling tones Of his rich laugh-loving voice, In speeding troops of social joys, And in volleys of wild mirth, Purer metal, rarest worth, Logic, passion, cordial zeal, Such as bard & hero feel. Strength for the hour, -- For the day sufficient power, Well advised, too easily great His large fleece to antedate. But, if another temper come, If on the sun shall creep a gloom, A time & tide too exigent, When the old mounds are torn & rent, More proud, more strong competitors Marshal the lists for Emperors, -- Then, the pleasant bard will know To put this frolic masque behind him, Like an old summer cloak, And in sky-born mail to bind him, And single-handed cope with Time, And parry & deal the thunderstroke. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON SANTA FE SKETCHES by CARL SANDBURG THE FAIRIES by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN by RUDYARD KIPLING THE CROPPY BOY: (A BALLAD OF '98) by WILLIAM B. MCBURNEY THE GREAT SAINT BERNARD by SAMUEL ROGERS |