TAKE, Poet, take these thanks too long deferred -- You that have made me richer year by year, Across the vast and desert waters drear Wafting your marriage-chimes of thought and word, Your true-born, truthful songs. Not April bird Utters abroad his wisdom morning-clear From fuller heart. Still sing with note sincere, And English pure as English air hath heard. And so, though all the fops of style misuse Our great brave language -- tricking out with beads This noble vesture that no frippery needs -- Help still to save, while Time around him strews Old shards of empire, and much dust of creeds, The honour and the glory of the muse. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FROM THE SHORE by CARL SANDBURG THE MARYLAND BATTALION [AUGUST 27, 1776] by JOHN WILLIAMSON PALMER ALARIC AT ROME by MATTHEW ARNOLD DESCRIBES THE PLACE WHERE CYNTHIA IS SPORTING HERSELF by PHILIP AYRES APPLE-GATHERING by MATHILDE BLIND |