42
ODE TO POESY.
Hair, heaven-born Poesy!—heaven-born, for all
Of good or fair proceeds, and must, from heaven,—
Lead me a willing votary in thy train;
An humble one, indeed, but one whose heart
Would fain receive thee to its inmost core,
And cherish thee while vital heat remains;
One who would prize thee as a valued gem
Of countless worth, and bright and glorious lustre;
One who would love thee, one who loves thee now,
One who will ever love thee, as the friend
Of virtue, wisdom, pity, and philanthropy;
One, sweet Poesy, who ne'er would barter thee for sordid wealth,
Or sully thy pure flame with flattery's incense,
Of good or fair proceeds, and must, from heaven,—
Lead me a willing votary in thy train;
An humble one, indeed, but one whose heart
Would fain receive thee to its inmost core,
And cherish thee while vital heat remains;
One who would prize thee as a valued gem
Of countless worth, and bright and glorious lustre;
One who would love thee, one who loves thee now,
One who will ever love thee, as the friend
Of virtue, wisdom, pity, and philanthropy;
One, sweet Poesy, who ne'er would barter thee for sordid wealth,
Or sully thy pure flame with flattery's incense,
