OH, what a waste of feeling and of thought Have been the imprints on my roll of life! What worthless hours! to what use have I turned The golden gifts which are my hope and pride! My power of song, unto how base a use Has it been put! with its pure ore I made An idol, living only on the breath Of idol worshippers. Alas! that ever Praise should have been what praise has been to me -- The opiate of the mind! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EXCHANGE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE A HEALTH by EDWARD COATE PINKNEY KITTY NEIL by JOHN FRANCIS WALLER THE MYSTIC TRUMPETER by WALT WHITMAN RELEASE by GLADYS NAOMI ARNOLD A PREPARATORY HYMNE TO THE WEEK OF MEDITACIONS UPON, & DEVOUT EXERCISE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |