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INVOCATION TO POESY.
A thousand voices were breathing round,
And there was a spirit in every sound
The cold, the beautiful, and the dim,
Arose in their various shapes to him;
With the crimson cheek and spotless mind,
Like the rose on the lily's breast reclin'd.
And there was a spirit in every sound
The cold, the beautiful, and the dim,
Arose in their various shapes to him;
With the crimson cheek and spotless mind,
Like the rose on the lily's breast reclin'd.
The stern, unbending mind was there,—
The heart of pride and the brow of care,
And the passionate longing for viewless things,
Deep sunk m the spirit's hidden springs,—
Some spoke in gladness, some breathed a sigh,
All passed in their beauty before his eye.
The heart of pride and the brow of care,
And the passionate longing for viewless things,
Deep sunk m the spirit's hidden springs,—
Some spoke in gladness, some breathed a sigh,
All passed in their beauty before his eye.
He felt in his bosom a boundless thirst
For the glory that over his spirit burst;
And he breathed the words in that magic thrall,
Invoking the spirit that reigned over all.
O! cold and passionless did they seem
To the eloquent thoughts in his being's dream.
For the glory that over his spirit burst;
And he breathed the words in that magic thrall,
Invoking the spirit that reigned over all.
O! cold and passionless did they seem
To the eloquent thoughts in his being's dream.
"Come, Poesy, to me,
Thou bright idolatry,
Spirit divine!
Come with thy quenchless light,
Come with thy smile so bright;
And rescue from its blight
This heart of mine.
Thou bright idolatry,
Spirit divine!
Come with thy quenchless light,
Come with thy smile so bright;
And rescue from its blight
This heart of mine.
