Classic Poem

Because I'm drunken with unknown nectars,
From ways made over-strait I turn; in sooth
My heart is only half inclin'd to truth
Of learned scrolls and saintly calendars:
Bald Science misses, and Religion mars
What I have found, tho' blundering and uncouth,
For I was wronged with Wonder in my youth,
And dazed with visions of forbidden Stars.

I was a minstrel boy in errantry
Roving the mossy ways of old Romance
In chase of Beauty, whose elusive glance
Thro' hapless ventures lured me brokenly:
But now of her I've had such great joyance
That this dour World shall never sober me.