Nothing will hold him longer—let him go; <br />Let him go down where others have gone down; <br />Little he cares whether we smile or frown, <br />Or if we know, or if we think we know. <br />The call is on him for his overthrow, <br />Say we; so let him rise, or let him drown. <br />Poor fool! He plunges for the sunken crown, <br />And we—we wait for what the plunge may show. <br /> <br />Well, we are safe enough. Why linger, then? <br />The watery chance was his, not ours. Poor fool! <br />Poor truant, poor Narcissus out of school; <br />Poor jest of Ascalon; poor king of men.— <br />The crown, if he be wearing it, may cool <br />His arrogance, and he may sleep again.<br /><br />Edwin Arlington Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sunken-crown/
