Classic Poem

WHEREIN TO SEE IS TO BELIEVE

Perhaps my style may strike some as too florid
Extolling my pure guardian of delight,
The sovereign of her sex: with virtue bright,
Most wise and sweet, her chaste and liberal forehead
Outdazzling Heaven! Nay, though my soul wax torrid
With praise, I fear she will dismiss as slight
My music, since she walks a starrier height...
Ah, let the skeptic stare! His heart is arid
Who will not say, " She that is heart's-desire
Is one whose grace and valour might extend
All muses, tax the grave or happy lyre!
But mortal tongue can never comprehend
Divinity: it soars not... By guile's fire
Love guides what Fate builds and Choice cannot bend! "