NO fear lest praise should make us proud! We know how cheaply that is won; The idle homage of the crowd Is proof of tasks as idly done. A surface-smile may pay the toil That follows still the conquering Right, With soft, white hands to dress the spoil That sun-browned valor clutched in fight. Sing the sweet song of other days, Serenely placid, safely true, And o'er the present's parching ways The verse distils like evening dew. But speak in words of living power, -- They fall like drops of scalding rain That plashed before the burning shower Swept o'er the cities of the plain! Then scowling Hate turns deadly pale, -- Then Passion's half-coiled adders spring, And, smitten through their leprous mail, Strike right and left in hope to sting. If thou, unmoved by poisoning wrath, Thy feet on earth, thy heart above, Canst walk in peace thy kingly path, Unchanged in trust, unchilled in love, -- Too kind for bitter words to grieve, Too firm for clamor to dismay, When Faith forbids thee to believe, And Meekness calls to disobey, -- Ah, then beware of mortal pride! The smiling pride that calmly scorns Those foolish fingers, crimson dyed In laboring on thy crown of thorns! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THOMAS MOORE (1) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON A BOOK OF AIRS SONG 18 by THOMAS CAMPION TO THE AUTHOR OF 'THE ROBBERS' (SCHILLER) by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE QUATORZAINS: 4. TO SOUND by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES TICKER TAPE by ELIZABETH KELTY BEITEL PSALM 4; AUGUST 10, 1653 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE SONNET by ETIENNE DE LA BOETIE TO ROBERT CALVERLEY TREVELYAN & ELIZABETH TREVELYAN by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |