Classic Poem

Dumb Sibyl, sitting at my birth
(or shall I call thee Sphinx?) that thought
my riddle thus in brain distraught
... His Elsinore the patient earth,

this shivering loon shall drape himself
among congenial rooks and daws
play Hamlet to his soul's applause
and pay him with his fancy's pelf ...

unseal thy lips if ne'er again!
and if I may not swing me high
where nuptial-songs of sea and sky
might fit my soul for Imogen

teach me at least of such desires
to lay the ghost and so escape
scorn of the night my trappings ape
and keen derision of its fires.