"Though the bold wings of Poesy affect…"

               Though the bold wings of Poesy affect
               The clouds, and wheel aroud the mountain tops
               Rejoicing, from her loftiest hight she drops
               Well pleased to skim the plain with wild flowers deckt,
               Or muse in seldom grove whose shades protect
               The lingering dew-there steals along, or stops
               Watching the least small bird that round her hops,
               Or creeping worm, with sensitive respect.
               Her functions are they therefore less divine,
               Her thoughts less deep, or void of grave intent
               Her simplest fancies? Should that fear be thine,
               Aspiring Votary, are thy hand present
               One offering, kneel before her modest shrine,
               With brow in penitential sorrow bent!

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