I THINK earth's noblest, most pathetic sight Is some old poet, round whose laurel-crown The long gray locks are streaming softly down; -- Whose evening, touched by prescient shades of night, Grows tranquillized, in calm, ethereal light: -- Such, such art @3thou@1, O master! worthier grown In the fair sunset of thy full renown, -- Poising, perchance, thy spiritual wings for flight! Ah, heaven! why shouldst thou from thy place depart? God's court is thronged with minstrels, rich with song; Even now, a new note swells the immaculate choir, -- But thou, whose strains have filled our lives so long, Still from the altar of thy reverent heart Let golden dreams ascend, and thoughts of fire! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HE WISHES FOR THE CLOTHS OF HEAVEN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS A CONNOISSEUR by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THANKSGIVING by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE MY HERO; TO ROBERT GOULD SHAW by BENJAMIN GRIFFITH BRAWLEY PERPLEXED MUSIC by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING HIDE AND GO SEEK by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER EPITAPH FOR ROBERT AIKEN by ROBERT BURNS FALL FIELDS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN: 9. THE LEGEND OF HYPERMNESTRA by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |