On The Desecration of Shakespeare

What puny, vapid minds have ye,
Who take down Shakespeare’s name.
What evil, dull, stupidity
Engulphs your shades with shame.
You cannot write one simple line
Of mediocre verse,
So malice acts you do assign
To show your sick self-curse.
Shakespeare was great, and that you hate,
Who’ll never rise to poor;
He will go on when you’re long gone,
And this you hate e’en more.
His words, his craft, of will-tamed fire,
His voice, melodious, true,
Still wings aloft, up high and higher,
O’er man-less depths of you.
Dark mud clings to your lips and hands,
Bright stars surround his fame;
You crawl as beasts through swampish lands,
‘Neathe mount of Shakespeare’s name!

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s