Most tuneful singer, lover tenderest, <br />Most sad, most piteous, and most musical, <br />Thine is the shrine more pilgrim-worn than all <br />The shrines of singers; high above the rest <br />Thy trumpet sounds most loud, most manifest. <br />Yet better were it if a lonely call <br />Of woodland birds, a song, a madrigal, <br />Were all the jetsam of thy sea's unrest. <br /> <br />For now thy praises have become too loud <br />On vulgar lips, and every yelping cur <br />Yaps thee a paean ; the whiles little men, <br />Not tall enough to worship in a crowd, <br />Spit their small wits at thee. Ah ! better then <br />The broken shrine, the lonely worshipper.<br /><br />Lord Alfred Douglas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-shakespeare/
