and by its world-transforming power prosper
Poetry, that cleaves the good man, well,
from the imposter;
Keep your standards high
but ease them with a sigh;
stare the devil blandly
in the face,
oft so comely and so full of grace-
it does not exist, disgrace.
Go with him a dance
minuet or cinq-a-pace,
dance your pants
off-in the end, 'unhand
me sir', say firmly, kindly,
'Would I never loved so blindly;
that will learn ye! '
Live with inimitable Art
that keeps us free of vice
kindling at heart
the voice
that bids us to be men.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem