Classic Poem

Here strangled in the West
See gentle Letters lie!
Where he had hoped the best
Despair is in his eye.
'Twas Mammon stabbed him first
And piracy severe,
The gash that bled him worst
Was dealt him by a sneer.

“Go to!” says worldly wise,
“What time have we to read?
The past is full of books,—
Enjoy the present deed!
Down with ideal things!
Melt down the wizard bell!
Strike off the poet's wings!
We still can buy and sell.”

Yes, for ye all are sold
To what your souls despise,—
The avarice of gold
And small anxieties;
To wives who spend and pine
And scandals base discuss,
To sons who die in wine,
And daughters frivolous.

Read not or wanton read,
That wanton dreams may be!
Have authors like your need,
Serfs of your pleasantry!
Here strangled in the West
See gentle Letters lie!—
Where he had hoped the best
Despair is in his eye.