Cupid And Apollo
Cupid and Apollo [strenghts of the Muse]
sway the round way the art of the circus.
Butt-men, however be it. Long live who?
O domestic, under whose heels are you?
Decide on and speak out ere Hesperus
illumine, slave. As the muses but Zeus's
and Apollo, the perch for tame and true
birds, the fountainhead of every sinew,
arts's, and the radix of our rage with his
armoury beyond shafts betide and kiss;
with reeds hurling to the utmost, many;
that sightless sapling rushing in frenzy,
heartless, (save as Nimrod's seed) illuded
with blindfold, from his coign, obtruded
of vantage, with no drying-dust ready
for wounds, befalls to incite thus crazy
with his creeping ulcer ne'er precluded.
For he is with want of ease, protruded
to puncture; I'm urging by warning that
he implants feathers much upon a dart.
He injures and puts to the torch, untried.
Striking flighty with wings, albeit inside
the temple not; that baby of roughness
whose acquisitive seat of consciousness
untrained is accursed. Sit upon his side
not, that aspersed the Titan god astride
the sun, the king of the muses, ageless,
and ever-shooting sun-rays, numberless.
His savour is unseeing, to breathe neath.
So, if excelled in art, who owns the heat?
Comments about this poem (Cupid And Apollo by Faeo 'Lyre' Clive )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley