Break his spirit, until he
Write for popularity.
If he thirst, bid him drink
Floods of sentimental ink;
Then, with inspiration spent,
Make him Poetry President.
If he stand aloof, and live
Solitary, sensitive,
Indifferent to blame and praise,
You can crucify his days:
Make a parody on him,
Though he echo cherubim;
Call his images absurd,
Wizard though he is in word;
Never offer him a crust
(Genius blossoms in the dust).
He refuses to be slave?
You can send him to his grave
A despised, dishonoured man,
Loathed by priest and puritan…
But, when you have done your worst
To proclaim his name accursed,
His dead hand, with lye upon it
Still can smite you in a sonnet;
His far spirit, though you know it
Not, shall find another poet.
And another, and shall come
Through them to millennium;
While your lips, that made him bleed,
Shall be nourishing a weed,
From your brain, a gelid mass,
Not a growing thing shall pass…
This one comfort I allow,–
That, a thousand years from now
Someone, book in hand, may come
To your long-forgotten tomb,
And there read, with rapture filled,
That live poet whom you killed.
(Benjamin Musser)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, Mind Poems, Literature Poems, Books Poems, Praise Poems, Fame Poems, Poets Poems, Brain Poems, Slavery Poems, Weeds PoemsBased on Keywords: crucify, parody, dishonoured, gelid, long-forgotten, puritan, millennium