Classic Poem

Dear muse, to thee I lift mine eyes,
And supplicate thy power;
Tho at thy feet a suppliant lie,
And heaves his penitential sigh,
To thy exalted tower.

Gladly I move at thy behest,
Thou garden of my mind;
Distant from thee I cannot rest,
But where thou art, my heart is blest,
And all to thee resigned.

Not one that shines among the fair
Delights me dear like thee,
For when the vapors of despair
Assail my heart, if thou art there
I crave not else to see.

When lightning blazes o'er my head,
Thy smiles my duty form;
The sun of hope beyond the dead,
Why should that soul the thunder dread,
Or fear to meet the storm.

When mortal life is almost gone,
Thou beck'nest from the tomb,
The veil will shortly be withdrawn,
The smiles of an ethereal dawn
Will swallow nature's gloom.

When fleshly powers decline to sing,
And love deserts its claim,
My soul tune every dulcet string,
Till my dear muse upon the wing,
Escorts thee safe away.