Make clear the passage to Sibylla's sight, Who with her trophy comes to crown this night; And, as herself with music shall be led, So shall she pull on with a golden thread A high vast obelisk, dedicate to Fame, Which immortality itself did frame. Raise high your voices now; like trumpets fill The room with sounds of triumph, sweet and shrill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MISSING THE BO IN THE HENHOUSE by HAYDEN CARRUTH MOTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MERELY STATEMENT by AMY LOWELL FOR THE NEW YEAR by EDWIN MARKHAM ERASMUS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |