Come, Poesie, thou well-belovèd thing,
And make thy home in this wild-beating heart;
Come, tune my tongue, and make me fit to sing
Thy praises: bright and beautiful thou art!

Come, Poesie, thou fountain of delight,
And bathe my soul in thy pellucid stream;
Come, glide into my being, pure and bright;
Come, visit me like a delightful dream!

Sweet Poesie, I've seen thee in the day,
And in my dreams by night I've heard thy voice
Speaking unto my soul: thou seemed'st to say,
‘Come with me; I will make thy heart rejoice!’

Sweet Poesie, oh, were it not for thee
My life would be a weary life of care,
And this bright world so beautiful to see
A dreary desert full of dark despair.

Wild Poesie, put in my hands a lyre,
That, when I sweep my fingers o'er its chords,
My heart may catch some of thine own wild fire,
And breathe it forth in all my works and words!

Wild Poesie, oh, may I hear thy voice
In the sweet rustling of the forest trees:
Oh, may I hear it in the ocean's noise;
Oh, may I hear it in the whispering breeze!

Dear Poesie, I'll wear thee near my heart;
Thou art a pearl of greatest price to me:
If thou wilt stay with me my better part
Of life I'll gladly dedicate to thee!

Dear Poesie, bright like the morning come,
And sun my soul in radiance divine:
Come, make within this throbbing heart a home!
Come, I would worship at thy hallowed shrine!