This morning, timely rapt with holy fire, I thought to form unto my zealous muse, What kind of creature I could most desire, To honour, serve, and love; as poets use. I meant to make her fair, and free, and wise, Of greatest blood, and yet more good than great; I meant the day-star should not brighter rise, Nor lend like influence from his lucent seat. I meant she should be courteous, facile, sweet, Hating that solemn vice of greatness, pride; I meant each softest virtue, there should meet, Fit in that softer bosom to reside. Only a learned, and a manly soul I purposed her; that should, with even powers, The rock, the spindle, and the shears control Of destiny, and spin her own free hours. Such when I meant to feign, and wished to see, My muse bad, @3Bedford@1 write, and that was she. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A DEAD CHILD by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES DRINKING SONG, FR. THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL by RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN THE DAUGHTER OF THE BLIND by ANNE M. F. ANNAN SAME COTTAGE - BUT ANOTHER SONG, OF ANOTHER SEASON by HENRY MAXIMILIAN BEERBOHM PEACE QUATRAIN by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN APRIL BYEWAY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN WATCHING RUNNING WATER by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: FIRST ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) FAMILIAR EPISTLES ON A SERMON, 'OFFICE & OPERATIONS OF HOLY SPIRIT': 2 by JOHN BYROM |