Classic Poem

That you will take the meaning of this verse
I know, deep-hearted friend and earnest man,
Poet! and thro' the simple picture see
The winged fancy rising from the flower!
Too delicate for me to touch, or do
Aught but suggest; send forth as Nature sends
The unfettered insects fluttering with delight
Thro' the long warm blue summer's day and folded
At eve behind some rainy leaf, while the woods
Sing wet with Tempest—On its wings alone
Let it depend when once the warm-fingered sun
Has touched it into life—Enough for me
To paint the flower in all its natural hues
And plant it; this done, its fate is with the sky.
But you will know how in these after days,
First love still follows the fair fleeting shape!
From the flush'd morning wave and woodland valley
Urging its wild pursuit, while still in vain
Swift Nature lends her forces, still in vain
The old prophetic trees wave overhead—
Ah! happy he whose last inspired desire
Conquering its anguish shall have power to pluck
The never-fading laurel! Round his brows
Sweet Beauty hovers and a dawning gleam
Wakes ever on the leaves, for they are steep'd
I' the springs of day, and therefore do we mark
This strange foreshadowed crown of poet love,
The crown of poet passion. Thus to you
I dedicate, and in your hands I place
Daphne, the darling of my own first love.
So take her, part in friendship, but indeed
Chiefly a tribute to the noble lyre
Which sang of the giant bright whose starry limbs
Still scale the midnight Heavens and plant aloft
Heroic footsteps up untravelled space!—
Live long and wear that constellated wreath.