Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/354

 Child and father, Or god rather, And all gods are wild.

"Who reads Byron any more?"— Shut the door, Momus, for I feel a draught; Shut it quick, for some one laughed.— "What's become of Browning? Some of Wordsworth lumbers like a raft?

"What are poets to find here?"— Have no fear: When the stars are shining blue There will yet be left a few Themes availing— And these failing, Momus, there'll be you.



words were magic and his heart was true,
 * And everywhere he wandered he was blessed.

Out of all ancient men my childhood knew
 * I choose him and I mark him for the best.

Of all authoritative liars, too,
 * I crown him loveliest.

How fondly I remember the delight
 * That always glorified him in the spring;

The joyous courage and the benedight
 * Profusion of his faith in everything! 