Is as a casket, wherein he has hid
The treasures of his heart. The talisman,
The magic key which can alone unlock
Such sacred jewels, is a mind attuned
Responsive to his own. Where this is not,
His book becomes a blank, and sordid breasts
Can find no beauty there. How happy they
Whose finer spirits can with joy perceive
The luscious sweetness of the poet’s song,
Partake the grandeur of like noble thought,