 | A New Year's Eve, and Other Poems |  |
169
SONNET
TO A BROTHER POET, ON HIS OPINION THAT NO ONE CARES ABOUT POETS OR THEIR WORKS.
O suffer not thy spirit so to deem,Though worldly may appear our later day,
That thus hath fallen on poet or his lay
The chilling insult of neglect's extreme.
Yet do the Muses' glorious pages teem
With vivid interest for the grave or gay;
Childhood, and Youth, and Age with tresses grey
Honour the bard who sings a noble theme.
It is a worldly age; but faith is mine
To think and feel that, worldly though it be,
Many there are who have not bent the knee
To sordid gain:—who love the Muses' shrine;
And for the faithful votaries of the Nine
Cherish their old affections frank and free.
| A New Year's Eve, and Other Poems | |