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Against Unworthy Praise
| O heart, be at peace, because | | Nor knave nor dolt can break | | What’s not for their applause, | | Being for a
woman’s sake. | | Enough if the work has seemed, | | So did she your strength renew, | | A dream that a lion
had dreamed | | Till the wilderness cried aloud, | | A secret between you two, | | Between the proud and the
proud. | | What, still you would have their praise! | | But here’s a haughtier text, | | The labyrinth of her days | | That her own strangeness perplexed; | | And how what her dreaming gave | | Earned slander, ingratitude, | | From self-same dolt and knave; | | Aye, and worse wrong than these. | | Yet she, singing upon her road, | | Half
lion, half child, is at peace. |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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