SHAKESPEARE
by: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(1807-1882)
- vision as of crowded city streets,
- With human life in endless overflow;
- Thunder of thoroughfares; trumpets that blow
- To battle; clamor, in obscure retreats,
- Of sailors landed from their anchored fleets;
- Tolling of bells in turrets, and below
- Voices of children, and bright flowers that throw
- O'er garden-walls their intermingled sweets!
- This vision comes to me when I unfold
- The volume of the Poet paramount,
- Whom all the Muses loved, not one alone;--
Into his hands they put the lyre of gold,
- And, crowned with sacred laurel at their fount,
- Placed him as Musagetes on their throne.
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