There is a pleasure in poetic pains Which only Poets know ;''"'twas rightly said; Whom could the Muses else allure to tread Their smoothest paths, to wear their lightest chains? When happiest Fancy has inspired the strains, How oft the malice of one luckless word Pursues the Enthusiast to the social board, Haunts him belated on the silent plains! Yet he repines not, if his thought stand clear, At last, of hindrance and obscurity, Fresh as the star that crowns the brow of morn; Bright, speckless, as a softly-moulded tear The moment it has left the virgin's eye, Or rain-drop lingering on the pointed thorn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPIGRAM: HERO AND LEANDER by JOHN DONNE WAPENTAKE; TO ALFRED TENNYSON by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE SORROWS OF WERTHER by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY AN EPITAPH ON MRS. EL: Y by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) LOVE POEMS: 5 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) HYMN OF THE WALDENSES by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT HAYING TIME IN VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |