Tuesday, January 11, 2022

In Streams of Poesy

Solace Derived from Books
by Edward Moxon

Hence Care, and let me steep my drooping spirit
In streams of Poesy, or let me steer
Imagination's bark ’mong bright scenes, where
Mortals immortal fairy-land inherit.
Ah me! that there should be so few to merit
The realized hope of him, who deems
In his Youth's spring that life is what it seems,
Till sorrows pierce his soul, and storms deter it
From resting there as erst! Ye visions fair
Of genius born, to you I turn, and flee
Far from this world's impervious apathy;
Too blest, if but awhile I captive share
The presence of such Beings as engage
The heart, and burn thro' Shakspeare's matchless page.