UNTIL the poet hears Apollo's Call to the hallowed sacrifice, The petty cares of life he follows, And sunk in them his spirit lies. His holy lyre remains unsounded; His spirit sleeps in numbing rest, By an unworthy world surrounded, Himself perhaps unworthiest. But once his ear, attentive, shakes When the god-given word is stirring, The poet's soul, its pinions whirring, Is like an eagle that awakes. Then wearied of all worldly playing, He shuns the babble of the crowd; The people's idol disobeying, His haughty head remains unbowed. He runs away, and wildly, proudly, Comes full of riot, full of sound, Where empty waters wash around The shores and woods that echo loudly. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MASTER-PLAYER by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ASSUNPINK AND PRINCETON [JANUARY 3, 1777] by THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH BIVOUAC ON A MOUNTAIN SIDE by WALT WHITMAN EASTER DAY [IN ROME] by OSCAR WILDE AT TWO-AND-TWENTY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE LITTLE ONES GREATNESS by JOSEPH BEAUMONT NOS IMMORTALES by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET |