 | The Finding of The Book and Other Poems |  |
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If thou hast merely art mosaicwise
If thou hast merely art mosaicwise
To cramp just fourteen lines with rhymes just five;
If thou our Shakespeare's sonnet half despise
Because he greatly spurn'd so strict a gyve,
Because he royally allows rhymes seven,
Because that glorious couplet at the close
Flower'd like the spring, and starry like the heav'n
Seem to uphold a world in its repose;
If thou so let thy fingers count away
That all uncountable music of renown,
Those sonnets dark, yet full of fadeless day,
Little, yet living half the epics down—
Give thine own sonnets to the fire that lies
Ready for all correct stupidities.
| The Finding of The Book and Other Poems | |