A man of marble holds the throne, With looks composed and resolute: Till death, a prince whom princes own, Draws near to touch the marble mute. The play is over: good my friends! Murmur the pale lips: your applause! With what a grace the actor ends: How loyal to dramatic laws! A brooding beauty on his brow; Irony brooding over sin: The next imperial actor now Bids the satyric piece begin. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 14 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI QUATORZAINS: 11. A CLOCK STRIKING AT MIDNIGHT by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE OLD HOUSE by GRACE DUFFIE BOYLAN CAELIA: SONNETS: 1 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) WOUNDED by JESSAMINE SLAUGHTER BURGUM TO MARION by GEORGE GORDON BYRON RECOGNITION by JOHN WHITE CHADWICK |