A poem praising the Muse, a mythological spirit of nature imagined as a beautiful maiden.
|SHE beams with joy, like one in love
with love itself and all that’s lush;
and when the Grecian gods above
unloose her from the morning's blush,
she descends like the gentle dove
with the notes of a crooning thrush.
With gilded locks, like flax most fair,
and liquid, limpid eyes so blue,
none is like her or can compare
to her likeness and brilliant hue;
which give light to the bold who dare
beseech her for her god-like view.
Thus foreordained as mythic Muse
to be revered as though a saint,
which no man can therefore refuse
or with vile words destroy or taint;
so let all creatures freely choose
to worship her without constraint.