O CHATTERTON! how very sad thy fate! Dear child of sorrow--son of misery! How soon the film of death obscur'd that eye, Whence Genius mildly flash'd, and high debate. How soon that voice, majestic and elate, Melted in dying numbers! Oh! how nigh Was night to thy fair morning. Thou didst die A half-blown flow'ret which cold blasts amate. But this is past: thou art among the stars Of highest Heaven: to the rolling spheres Thou sweetly singest: naught thy hymning mars, Above the ingrate world human fears. On earth the good man base detraction bars From thy fair name, and waters it with tears. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOVELY CHANCE by SARA TEASDALE A SPINNING SONG by JOHN FRANCIS O'DONNELL VOICES by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS TO JOSIAH ROYCE by BRENT DOW ALLINSON SALOME by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE ON FEATHER BEDS by JOHN ARMSTRONG |