Page:Prometheus bound - Browning (1833).djvu/153

 I know that much whereof I sing, Is shapen but for vanishing; I know that summer's flower and leaf And shine and shade are very brief, And that the heart they brighten, may, Before them all, be sheathed in clay!— I do not know the reason why I have delight in minstrelsy.

A few there are, whose smile and praise My minstrel hope, would kindly raise: But, of those few—Death may impress The lips of some with silentness; While some may friendship's faith resign, And heed no more a song of mine.— Ask not, ask not the reason why I have delight in minstrelsy.