Master, I see thee with the locks of gray, Crowned by the Muses with the laurel-wreath; I see the roses hiding underneath, Cassandra's gift; she was less dear than they. Thou, Master, first hast roused the lyric lay- The sleeping song that the dead years bequeath- Hast sung sweet answer to the songs that breathe Through ages, and through ages far away. And thou hast heard the pulse of Pindar beat, Known Horace by the fount Bandusian! Their deathless line thy living strains repeat, But ah! thy voice is sad, thy roses wan, But ah! thy honey is not cloying sweet, Thy bees have fed on yews Sardinian. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LITTLE GIRL'S PRAYER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD A HYMN FOR PROCESSION WITH CROSS AND BANNERS by SABINE BARING-GOULD THE BALLAD OF ORISKANY by OBADIAH CYRUS AURINGER TORRISMOND; AN UNFINISHED DRAMA by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES PEACE QUATRAIN by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN CATTERSKILL FALLS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |