YOU walk my studio's modest round, With slowly supercilious air; While in each lifted eyebrow lurks, The keenness of an ambushed sneer. You lift your glass, and scan the walls, @3Between@1 the pictures -- with a glance Which takes the curtained drapery in, But views the art-work all askance: A sigh! a shrug! and then you turn Homeward -- your judgment fixed as fate -- The labors of a life-time gauged, Serenely in your shallow pate! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FLOATING MORMON by KAREN SWENSON RAIN-SONGS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR EACH AND [OR, IN] ALL by RALPH WALDO EMERSON A LETTER FROM A GIRL TO HER OWN OLD AGE by ALICE MEYNELL HENRY HUDSON'S QUEST [1609] by BURTON EGBERT STEVENSON SONG OF THE FATHERLAND by ERNST MORITZ ARNDT |