THE barren music of a word or phrase, The futile arts of syllable and stress, He sought. The poetry of common days He did not guess. The simplest, sweetest rhythms life affords -- Unselfish love, true effort truly done, The tender themes that underlie all words -- He knew not one. The human cadence and the subtle chime Of little laughters, home and child and wife, He knew not. Artist merely in his rhyme, Not in his life. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SOMETIME by MAY LOUISE RILEY SMITH THE END OF IT by FRANCIS THOMPSON THE MORAL FABLES: THE FOX AND THE WOLF by AESOP PSALM 41. BEATUS QUI INTELLIGIT by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE ESTRANGEMENT by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 44. FAREWELL TO JULIET (6) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT FACTORY-GIRL by MAXWELL BODENHEIM |