To Robert Penn Warren <br /> <br />You hold your eager head <br />Too high in the air, you walk <br />As if the sleepy dead <br />Had never fallen to drowse <br />From the sublimest talk <br />Of many a vehement house. <br />Your head so turned turns eyes <br />Into the vagrant West; <br />Fixing an iron mood <br />In an Ozymandias* breast <br />And because your clamorous blood <br />Beats an impermanent rest <br />You think the dead arise <br />Westward and fabulous: <br />The dead are those whose lies <br />Were doors to a narrow house.<br /><br />Allen Tate<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-romantic/
