To sit on History in an easy chair, Still rivalling the wild hordes by whom 'twas writ! Sure, this beseems a race of laggard wit, Unwarned by those plain letters scrawled on air. If more than hands' and armsful be our share, Snatch we for substance we see vapours flit. Have we not heard derision infinite When old men play the youth to chase the snare? Let us be belted athletes, matched for foes, Or stand aloof, the great Benevolent, The Lord of Lands no Robber-birds annex, Where Justice holds the scales with pure intent; Armed to support her sword; -- lest we compose That Chapter for the historic word on Wrecks. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RAND MCNALLY ATLAS by KAREN SWENSON LOW BAROMETER by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS by ABRAHAM LINCOLN A SONG TO CELIA by CHARLES SEDLEY PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 5. ALLAH-AL-KUDDUS by EDWIN ARNOLD AFTER CONSTRUING by ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON |