To Shakespeare

Most tuneful singer, lover tenderest,

Most sad, most piteous, and most musical,

Thine is the shrine more pilgrim-worn than all

The shrines of singers; high above the rest

Thy trumpet sounds most loud, most manifest.

Yet better were it if a lonely call

Of woodland birds, a song, a madrigal,

Were all the jetsam of thy sea's unrest.

For now thy praises have become too loud

On vulgar lips, and every yelping cur

Yaps thee a paean ; the whiles little men,

Not tall enough to worship in a crowd,

Spit their small wits at thee. Ah ! better then

The broken shrine, the lonely worshipper.

Taken from the New Adelphi Library edition of 'Selected Poems' by Lord Arthur Douglas Published by Martin Secker 1926Page 2