Classic Poem

My Ludovico, it is sad!
——You've caused your artist's soul to die.
——You've starved the very heart. And why?
It was no common heart you had.

I don't say you were born above
——A world of worlds; to sit and scan
——In majesty Shakespearian
The man of generations move.

I don't say you were genius. No!
——But froMyour tender lips would fall
——Delicious things, and I recall
One song that set my cheeks aglow.

Why starve it?—What, pray, have you won?
——You, quick and subtle analyst,
——Would take the dearest flower and twist
Its stem, and watch the juices run.

I know we all are such, of course.
——It took some thousand thousand years
——To make a race that liked its tears
And whetted the edges of remorse.

But you, with such a soul to sing,
——A large and blue and quiet eye!
——I love you very little—I
Who thought you prophet, priest and king.

I wonder. Will the old world wake?
——Are we the people of the end?
——And shall the coming poets tend