Sole inspiration of poetic lore;
Then truth, at times, like light, came struggling through,
And I was sad and heart-forgone no more.
For thou became my mistress—I have thrown
My heart and hope on thee—I cannot bear
That, with my life, my name should pass away,
And be forgot, when I am dead and gone;
And in the grave, when mouldering in decay,
That my remembrance should be buried there.
I care not for the world, or the world's ways,