But write (for coin) our topic-tinctured lays
And come, and go, like any evening breeze.
But I, for one, would never weep the lack
Of monumental works, and noble themes,
But rest content by slopes where Demos dreams
And leave Parnassus’ heights upon my back,
[197] ]If I could write (as any man should write)
About the world within my garden wall,
And never dream inspired dreams at all
To live still on when I had sought the night.