Recognition
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Pick up a torch and carry it up high,
And carry it throughout the world, and you
Will find that fame is gilding as a sly
Inscription on a tomb. The best fall through
The open doors of coffins, though these lids
Be painted with a name that blazed like flame.
No matter what connections on what grids
Of glory we achieve, the greatest fame
Ends up at best in deep carved words on stone.
An opera singer bows in utter grace,
So low her skirt engulfs her in its sewn
Brocade of voile and gold and bouffant lace,
But still it is a shroud. Applause drowns out
This consciousness, yet death is quite devout.