"Seldom we find," says Solomon Don Dunce, "Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet. Through all the flimsy things we see at once As easily as through a Naples bonnet -- Trash of all trash! -- how can a lady don it? Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff -- Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff Twirls into trunk-paper while you con it." And, veritably, Sol is right enough. The general tuckermanities are arrant Bubbles -- ephemeral and so transparent -- But this is, now, -- you may depend upon it -- Stable, opaque, immortal -- all by dint Of the dear names that lie concealed within't. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TOMB AT AKR CAAR by EZRA POUND WINDFLOWER LEAF by CARL SANDBURG GARRISON by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT OUTIDANA: A DIRGE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 54. AL-KAWI by EDWIN ARNOLD ON MUSIC by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 4 by THOMAS CAMPION |