AT thee @3the Mocker@1 sneers in cold derision, Through thee he seeks to desecrate and dim Glory for which he hath no soul or vision, For "God" and "Angel" are but sounds with him. He makes the jewels of the heart his booty, And scoffs at Man's Belief and Woman's Beauty. Yet thou—a lowly shepherdess!—descended Not from a kingly but a godly race, Are crowned by Poësy! Amid the splendid Of Heaven's high stars she builds thy dwellingplace, Garlands thy temples with a wreath of glory, And swathes thy memory in eternal Story. The Base of this weak world exult at seeing The Fair defaced, the Lofty in the dust; Yet grieve not! There are godlike hearts in being Which worship still the Beautiful and Just. Let Momus and his mummers please the crowd, Of nobleness alone a noble mind is proud. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BE STRONG by MALTBIE DAVENPORT BABCOCK THE PRISONER (A FRAGMENT) by EMILY JANE BRONTE WAPENTAKE; TO ALFRED TENNYSON by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW FATHER LAND AND MOTHER TONGUE by SAMUEL LOVER CHARACTERS: SARAH TAYLOR RIGBY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD A HYMN OF FORM by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |