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The Anonymous Poet You, the choice minions of the proud-lipped nine Who warble at the great Apollo's knee, Why do you laugh at these rude lays of mine? I seek not of your brotherhood to be: I do not play the public swan, nor try To curve my proud neck on your vocal streams. In my own little isle retreated, I Lost myself in my waters and my dreams: Forgetful of the world, forgotten too, The cygnet of my own secluded wave I sing, whilst dashing up their silver dew For joy, the petty billows try to rave: There is a still applause in solitude, Fitting alike my merits and my mood. George Darley's other poems:
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