Go, dumb-born book, Tell her that sang me once that song of Lawes: Hadst thou but song As thou hast subjects known, Then were there cause in thee that should condone Even my faults that heavy upon me lie, And build her glories their longevity. Tell her that sheds Such treasure in the air, Recking naught else but that her graces give Life to the moment, I would bid them live As roses might, in magic amber laid, Red overwrought with orange and all made One substance and one color Braving time. Tell her that goes With song upon her lips But sings not out the song, nor knows The maker of it, some other mouth May be as fair as hers, Might, in new ages, gain her worshipers When our two dusts with Waller's shall be laid, Siftings on siftings in oblivion, Till change hath broken down All things save Beauty alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EIGHTEEN-DOLLAR TAXI TRIP TO TIZAPAN AND BACK TO CHAPALA by CLARENCE MAJOR CHILD OF MY HEART by EDWIN MARKHAM THE NEGRO DANCERS by CLAUDE MCKAY TO THE PEACOCK OF FRANCE by MARIANNE MOORE NIGHT AND DAY: 3 by ISAAC ROSENBERG PARIS IN SPRING by SARA TEASDALE TWO FUNERALS: 1. by LOUIS UNTERMEYER AN ODE ON THE UNVEILING OF THE SHAW MEMORIA BOSTON COMMON, MAY 31, 1897 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |