ALAS! and must this be the fate That all too often will await The gifted hand, which shall awake The poet's lute? and, for its sake, All but its own sweet self resign, Thou loved lute, to be only thine! For what is genius, but deep feeling, Wakening to glorious revealing? And what is feeling, but to be Alive to every misery? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EXILED by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE DAY-DREAM: MORAL by ALFRED TENNYSON A POEM OF SPRING by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 19. THE HEART, LOVE'S BUTT by PHILIP AYRES MICHAEL ANGELO by AUGUSTE BARBIER GLIMPSES OF ITALY: 5. LIKE PAESTUM'S TEMPLE by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |