To Carthy (Epigram Against Carthy)

Thy labours, Carthy, long conceal'd from light,
Piled in a garret, charm'd the author's sight,
But forced from their retirement into day,
The tender embryos half unknown decay;
Thus lamps which burn'd in tombs with silent glare,
Expire when first exposed to open air.

Jonathan Swift

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.