 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
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XXVI. THE WORLD'S APPRECIATIONS.
Minuter minds conceive not what is great:To them 'tis nothing as to fleshly ears
The music of the planetary spheres:
Its full-faced presence leaves them unelate;
And when, submissive to all-mastering fate,
That greatness dies, or, deathless, disappears,
Upon its grave the triflers drop no tears,
The feasters not one hour their jests abate.
To such what meant that Roman Kingship hoar,
Link of the old world with ours? A gaud, now gone!
—'Tis thus when parents die! the wife, the son
Weep by the bier; the poor beside the door:
Small shapes that buzz around feel anguish none:
To cricket and to moth the house is as before.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |