POET! I come to touch thy lance with mine; Not as a knight, who on the listed field Of tourney touched his adversary's shield In token of defiance, but in sign Of homage to the mastery, which is thine, In English song; nor will I keep concealed, And voiceless as a rivulet frost-congealed, My admiration for thy verse divine. Not of the howling dervishes of song, Who craze the brain with their delirious dance, Art thou, O sweet historian of the heart! Therefore to thee the laurel-leaves belong, To thee our love and our allegiance, For thy allegiance to the poet's art. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DORA WILLIAMS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SONG:SO WHY DOES THIS DEAD CARNATION by HAYDEN CARRUTH DOWN THE BROOK by ROBERT FROST PENT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BONNYBELL: THE GRAY SPHEX by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |