The Muse.
Why woo a false and fabled muse?
The breeze, the sunlight, or the shower,
Fair morning’s dawn, sweet evening dews,
The noble tree or simple flower,
Can act with Inspiration’s power
Poetic ardours to infuse!
The rough rock, or the mountain glen;
Vast forests where no light is gleaming;
Lone pathless wilds untrod by men,
Quick lightning o’er vexed ocean streaming,
Dark nights when no clear star is beaming,
Arouse the soul’s sublimest strain.
Each acting on the mental frame,
That intellect which God has given,
Enkindle poesy’s bright flame,
Whose warmth o’er thought and feeling driven
In numbers flows; thus drawn from heaven
Are thoughts that gain the poet’s fame!