My thanks, dear friend, as always! But, I fear No art -- not Prospero's -- can speak to me As those swift words you breathed first in my ear. They were your heart; this but your wizardry. We have lived much, won much, and now are old. Strange, is it not, when I call in review My life's achievements, dross and drab and gold, There's nothing shines but took its light from you? And yet, as I reread our book to-night, And trembled almost at some old-loved line, I wondered if the world, so prone to slight, Would some day slur your stainless name with mine, Not knowing there is ice in heavenly flame, And Friendship is Love's canonized name. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAMPUS SONNET: RETURN - 1917 by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET YOUNG BLOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET DOMESDAY BOOK: FINDING OF THE BODY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DOW BRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JOHN CABANIS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS WAR VERSE (1914) by EZRA POUND |