Synopsis

TO ONE IN A HIGH POSITION To you, a poet, glorious, heaven--born, One who is not a poet but a son Of the earth earthy, sick and travel--worn And weary with a race already run, A battle lost e'er yet his day is done, Comes with this tribute, shattered banners torn From a defeat. You reign in Macedon, My Alexander, as at earlier morn You reigned upon Parnassus, hero, king. I reign no more, not even in those hearts For which these songs were made, and if I sing 'Tis with a harsh and melancholy note At which my own heart like an echo starts. Yet sometimes I can deem you listening, And then all else is instantly forgot.