143
ON POETRY.
Spirit of poetry, 't is thine
To soothe, exalt us, and refine;
Yet 't is not when thy numbers chime,
Like tinkling bells, in changeless rhyme,
Unmeaning words, though sweet their sound,—
'T is not by these thy temple 's crowned!
No! sentiments that easy flow,
Enriched by genuine feeling's glow,
Or sparkling with wit's vivid fire,
Or, boldly daring to aspire
On nobler wings and loftier, verse
To higher themes of virtue nurse,
With Milton following, soaring fancy's flight,
Singing of chaos and eternal night,—
To soothe, exalt us, and refine;
Yet 't is not when thy numbers chime,
Like tinkling bells, in changeless rhyme,
Unmeaning words, though sweet their sound,—
'T is not by these thy temple 's crowned!
No! sentiments that easy flow,
Enriched by genuine feeling's glow,
Or sparkling with wit's vivid fire,
Or, boldly daring to aspire
On nobler wings and loftier, verse
To higher themes of virtue nurse,
With Milton following, soaring fancy's flight,
Singing of chaos and eternal night,—
