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Poem by Henry Austin Dobson
More Poets Yet!
'More Poets yet!'-I hear him say, Arming his heavy hand to slay;- 'Despite my skill and 'swashing blow,' They seem to sprout where'er I go;- I killed a host but yesterday!' Slash on, O Hercules! You may. Your task's, at best, a Hydra-fray; And though you cut, not less will grow More Poets yet! Too arrogant! For who shall stay The first blind motions of the May? Who shall out-blot the morning glow?- Or stem the full heart's overflow? Who? There will rise, till Time decay, More Poets yet!
Henry Austin Dobson
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