You are the poetry makers,
who dare dream of dreams,
wandering by the sea breakers,
and sitting by bubbling steams.
Word users and not forsakers,
on whom our smiles wish gleams
in sentence movers and shakers
and volumes or so it seems.
With wonderful dancing ditties
you build up poets in cities,
and pen a fabulous story
fashioned in rhyming glory.
You give man a sonnet for pleasure
and he goes forth with your crown;
And three more cheers for measure
will trample a sour puss face down.
Yes, you are bards in ages lying
who leave the Faerie Mother sighing
and risen from out of the earth,
building cheer with your mirth
Now may we say something prophesying
that your poetry will gain great worth;
For you knew a dream that may be dying
and give all of us here a new birth. |
