For thought & not praise; Thought is the wages For which I sell days, Will gladly sell ages, And willing grow old, Deaf, & dumb, & blind, & cold, Melting matter into dreams, Panoramas which I saw And whatever glows or seems Into substance into Law | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IS YOUR TOWN NINEVEH? by MARIANNE MOORE TRANSFORMATION by CARL SANDBURG SEA SLUMBER-SONG by RODEN BERKELEY WRIOTHESLEY NOEL A GENTLE ECHO ON WOMAN (IN THE DORIC MANNER) by JONATHAN SWIFT ALFARABI; THE WORLD-MAKER. A RHAPSODICAL FRAGMENT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |