Quote#Poetry
Where go the poet's lines?
Quote byOliver Wendell Holmes · 1809–1894
Commonly attributed — not confirmed in an authoritative edition. Cited on Wikiquote to: "The Poet's Lot", Poems (1836).
English (original)
Where go the poet's lines? Answer, ye evening tapers! Ye auburn locks, ye golden curls, Speak from your folded papers!
— Oliver Wendell Holmes
More from Oliver Wendell Holmes
The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom; And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.
I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here; But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer!
Nail to the mast her holy flag, Set every threadbare sail And give her to the god of storms, The lightning and the gale!
Storms, thunders, waves! Howl, crash, and bellow till ye get your fill; Ye sometimes rest; men never can be still But in their graves.
The god looked out upon the troubled deep Waked into tumult from its placid sleep; The flame of anger kindles in his eye As the wild waves ascend the lowering sky; He lifts his head above their awful height And to the distant fleet directs …
Thou say’st an undisputed thing In such a solemn way.