I I LAUGH at each dull bore, taste's parasite Who stares upon me with his goatish eyes; And those raw freshmen, lean as hungry flies, Who gape and sniff at me in petty spite. I laugh, too, at those apes, whose learning trite Puffs them with pride to pose as critics wise; And at those dastard rogues, my enemies, 'Gainst poisoned weapons daring me to fight. Yet when Joy's nosegay of delightful things Is shattered for us by the hand of Fate, And at our feet flung withered, without scent, And when the heart within the breast is rent, Rent, and stabbed through, sore-wounded, desperate— What's left us but that laugh that shrilly rings? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER A JOURNEY by THOMAS HARDY AUTUMN: A DIRGE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: ZOHEYR by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: WARNINGS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE EDGE OF DOOM by ALICE CARY THE THISTLE FLOWER by ALICE CARY |