He heard a music that he could not snatch From moods' and muses' fitful higher flight. He wrote the lower strains his ears could catch; But in despair, his name he would not write. He died. His sweet unfathered songs survived, True, human voices of the life that is. Men praised: but only knew the name contrived To hide a grave's enduring melodies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DESIRE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE PARTY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ANECDOTE OF THE JAR by WALLACE STEVENS THE SUMMER POOL by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN POETICAL ADDRESS TO MR. WILLIAM TYTLER by ROBERT BURNS |