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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XV
Work rating: Low

For thus it is. You flout at kings to--day.
 To--morrow in your pride you shall stoop low
 To a new tyrant who shall come your way,
 And serve him meekly with mock--serious brow,
 While the world laughs. I shall not laugh at you.
 Your Bourbon, Bonaparte or Boulanger
 Are foils to your own part of ingénue
 Which moves me most, the moral of your play.
 You have a mission in the world, to teach
 All pride its level. Poet, prince and clown,
 Each in your amorous arms has scaled the breach
 Of his own pleasure and the world`s renown.
 Till with a yawn you turn, and from your bed
 Kick out your hero with his ass`s head.
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