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...FRAGMENT by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SILENCE by MAVIS CLARE BARNETT THE SECOND BROTHER; ACT 2, SCENE 1 by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES A WRECKED LOCOMOTIVE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE EAST WIND by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN THE WHITE-FOOTED DEER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT OBSERVATIONS IN THE ART OF ENGLISH POESY: 30 by THOMAS CAMPION |