Author William Carlos Williams Though you complain of me That I build no marvel to your name;That I have never grappled time to proclaim You everlastingly;Though no marble, however white it be, Compels me to win your fame:My soul is shapen as by a flame In your identity. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 Average: 1 (1 vote) Rate Log in or register to post comments