Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.


You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!

A Recantation

by
 1917

(To Lyde of the Music Halls)


What boots it on the Gods to call?
 Since, answered or unheard,
We perish with the Gods and all
 Things made--except the Word.
Ere certain Fate had touched a heart By fifty years made cold, I judged thee, Lyde, and thy art O'erblown and over-bold.
But he--but he, of whom bereft I suffer vacant days-- He on his shield not meanly left He cherished all thy lays.
Witness the magic coffer stocked With convoluted runes Wherein thy very voice was locked And linked to circling tunes.
Witness thy portrait, smoke-defiled, That decked his shelter-place.
Life seemed more present, wrote the child, Beneath thy well-known face.
And when the grudging days restored Him for a breath to home, He, with fresh crowds of youth, adored Thee making mirth in Rome.
Therefore, I humble, join the hosts, Loyal and loud, who bow To thee as Queen of Song--and ghosts, For I remember how Never more rampant rose the Hall At thy audacious line Than when the news came in from Gaul Thy son had--followed mine.
But thou didst hide it in thy breast And, capering, took the brunt Of blaze and blare, and launched the jest That swept next week the front.
Singer to children! Ours possessed Sleep before noon--but thee, Wakeful each midnight for the rest, No holocaust shall free! Yet they who use the Word assigned, To hearten and make whole, Not less than Gods have served mankind, Though vultures rend their soul.

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - A RecantationEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...


Top Rudyard Kipling Poems

Analysis and Comments on A Recantation

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem A Recantation here.