Page:Poems, Alexander Pushkin, 1888.djvu/157

Rh THE POET.

the poet summoned is

To Apollo's holy sacrifice

In the world's empty cares

Engrossed is half-hearted he.

His holy lyre silent is

And cold sleep his soul locks in;

And of the world's puny children,

Of all puniest perhaps is he.

Yet no sooner the heavenly word

His keen ear hath reached,

Than up trembles the singer's soul

Like unto an awakened eagle.

The world's pastimes him now weary

And mortals' gossip now he shuns

To the feet of popular idol

His lofty head bends not he.