My Last Poem

Coleridge, some three hundred years ago
Wrote a poem to his beloved friend Charles Lamb.
A modern soul thinks friendship is knit with flattery,
But it is not so. By comparing Lamb to his beloved Burns
Who wrote the hymn of Auld Lang Syne,
It was like he was speaking to me.

I have drunk deep from the Aolian Mount
In my grandmastery of the craft,---
Any further and I shall be grasping for the bough
Of a bare tree half way between inspiration;
And at the end I shall drink the many poisons of bitterness.
This is my last poem. For Coleridge wisely said
To Dr. Lamb to be bounden to ministry...
For my destiny is rooted in my heavenly muse.
I properly look for my patronage for this art...
Yet, Maecenas is dead. For I will
Renounce the world's cares and its lying vanity.
I shall not drink the bane.

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