Classic Poem

But ye, that faction of our citizens
Who in my manhood's grief upon me spat,
O ye whose heart-of-snake and brain-of-gnat,
Like the brief offspring of the pools or fens,
Spawned the green speech wherewith ye hoped to kill
Or exile me, what time I lifted eyes
From bride-in-coffin to the vacant skies
Domed above this city memorable;
Ye cruel ladies with the scarlet tongue,
Ye cruel gentlemen with brazen tooth,
Ye shamers of the city whence ye sprung,
This city of sunlight and immortal truth,
Ye too shall find your good (if good it be) —
To be remembered in the world with me.