 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
FAME.
Fame guards the wreath we call a crownWith other wreaths of fire,
And dragging this or that man down
Will not raise you the higher!
Fear not too much the open seas,
Nor yet yourself misdoubt;
Clear the bright wake of geniuses,
Then steadily steer out.
That wicked men in league should be
To push your craft aside,
Is not the hint of modesty,
But the poor conceit of pride.
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |