O ye dead Poets, who are living still
Immortal in your verse, though life be fled,
And ye, O living Poets, who are dead
Though ye are living, if neglect can kill,
Tell me if in the darkest hours of ill,
With drops of anguish falling fast and red
From the sharp crown of thorns upon your head
Ye were not glad your errand to fulfill?
Yes; for the gift and ministry of Song
Have something in them so divinely sweet,
It can assuage the bitterness of wrong;
Not in the clamour of the crowded street,
Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng,
But in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.
(Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)
More Poetry from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems based on Topics: Sadness, Literature, Poets, Charity, Defeats- The Golden Legend: VI. The School Of Salerno (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems)
- The Golden Legend: V. A Covered Bridge At Lucerne (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems)
- The Golden Legend: Prologue & 1. (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems)
- By The Seaside : The Building Of The Ship (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems)
- Coplas De Manrique (From The Spanish) (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems)
- The Blind Girl Of Castel-Cuille. (From The Gascon of Jasmin) (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Sadness Poems, Literature Poems, Charity Poems, Poets Poems, Defeats PoemsBased on Keywords: clamour, errand, divinely, assuage, plaudits