What now avails the pageant verse, Trophies and arms with music borne? Base is the world; and some rehearse How noblest meet ignoble scorn Vain now the ardor, vain thy fire, Delirium mere, unsound desire: Fate's knife hath ripped the chorded lyre. Exhausted by the exacting lay, Thou dost but fall a surer prey To wile and guile ill understood; While they who work them, fair in face, Still keep their strength in prudent place, And claim they worthier run life's race, Serving high God with useful good. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE AUTHOR OF 'THE ROBBERS' (SCHILLER) by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE BETH GELERT; OR, THE GRAVE OF THE GREYHOUND by WILLIAM ROBERT SPENCER HYMN TO SCIENCE by MARK AKENSIDE SHE IS SO PRETTY by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER THE ENTERED APPRENTICES' SONG by MATTHEW BIRKHEAD THE SLEEPING BEAUTY by MATHILDE BLIND ON READING A POET'S FIRST BOOK by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER |