Classic Poem

When from the lip a glowing Thought
In rapid words would burst away,
Why should a torpid Pen be sought,
To keep it, wavering, through the day!

Warm from the Heart, Thought dreads no test
Of critic ear that sifts the sound,
The Eye, the Manner, give it Zest,
The Language need not be profound.

But to the Pen the thought resigned,
How flat, how poor, the Language crawls!
You search in vain a Glow to find,
Each word is cold, each period drawls.

I only said that, when with You,
Improved, amused, the moments stole,
That you had Mind, and that you drew
From Nature's bank within your soul.

What did I say that should compel
My Pen to fix it for the Eye?
Why on clear Truth for ever dwell?
As well write — " Stars are in the Sky! "

To pen such Truisms I hate,
For I a Poet was decreed,
And the firm voice of Sovereign Fate
Bade F ICTION crown me with its Meed.

One Truth my pen shall still attest,
Though jealous Fiction frown the while,
That those who know you prize you best,
And all invoke your friendly smile!