Against The Dispraisers Of Poetry - Poem by Richard Barnfield
Chaucer is dead; and Gower lies in grave;
The Earl of Surrey long ago is gone;
Sir Philip Sidney's soul the heavens have;
George Gascoigne him before was tombed in stone.
Yet, though their bodies lie full low in ground,
As every thing must die that erst was born,
Their living fame no fortune can confound,
Nor ever shall their labors be forlorn.
And you, that discommend sweet poetry,
(So that the subject of the same be good)
Here may you see your fond simplicity,
Sith kings have favored it, of royal blood.
The King of Scots (now living) is a poet,
As his Lepanto and his Furies show it.
Comments about Against The Dispraisers Of Poetry by Richard Barnfield
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Read poems about / on: poetry
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You