Are you my songs, importunate of praise? br Be still, remember for your comforting br That sweeter birds have had less leave to sing br Before men piped them from their lonely ways. br br Greener leaves than yours are lost in every spring br Rubies far redder thrust your eager rays br Into the blindfold dark for many days br Before men chose them for a finger-ring. br br Sing as you dare, not as men choose, receive not br The passing fashion's prize, for dole or due- br Men's summer-sweet unrecognition-grieve not: br Oh, stoop not to them! Better far that you br Should go unsung than sing as you believe not, br Should go uncrowned than to yourselves untrue.