THERE are who bid us chant this modern age, With all its shifting hopes and crowded cares, School-boards and land-laws, votes and state-affairs, And, one by one, the puny wars we wage; They charge us with our lyric flutes assuage The hunger that the lean-ribbed peasant bears, Or wreathe our laurel round the last gray hairs Of the old pauper in his workhouse-cage, -- Not wisely; for the round world spins so fast, Leaps in the air, staggers, and shoots, and halts, -- We know not what is false or what is true; But in the firm perspectives of the past We see the picture duly, and its faults Are softly moulded by a filmy blue. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE STATUE AND THE BUST by ROBERT BROWNING INVITATION TO LOVE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE LITTLE HILL by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY ONLY A YEAR' by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE I HAVE A GARMENT by ABRAHAM IBN EZRA |