You, the choice minions of the proud-lipped nine Who warble at the great Apollo's knee, Why do you laugh at these rude lays of mine? I seek not of your brotherhood to be: I do not play the public swan, nor try To curve my proud neck on your vocal streams. In my own little isle retreated, I Lost myself in my waters and my dreams: Forgetful of the world, forgotten too, The cygnet of my own secluded wave I sing, whilst dashing up their silver dew For joy, the petty billows try to rave: There is a still applause in solitude, Fitting alike my merits and my mood. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BIRTHDAY OF DANIEL WEBSTER by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES SONNET: 146 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE SISTERS by JOHN BANISTER TABB THE GUERDON by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE FLOWERING FAGGOTS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET IN MEMORY OF AGOSTINO ISOLA, OF CAMBRIDGE, WHO DIED 1797 by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |