Only page of title Easy
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_Wherein no hint of wrong_,
_No echo of the great world need_, _or pain_,
_Shall mar the strain_.
_Lock fast the swinging portal of thy heart_;
_Keep sympathy apart_.
_Sing of the sunset_, _of the dawn_, _the sea_;
_Of any thing or nothing_, _so there be_
_No purpose to thy art_.
_Yea_, _let us make_, _art for Art's sake_.
_And sing no more unto the hearts of men_,
_But for the critic's pen_.
_With songs that are but words_, _sweet sounding words_,
_Like joyous jargon of the birds_.
_Tune now thy lyre_, _O Poet_, _and sing on_.
_Sing of_
Of her belovèd Darkness, rose in fear,
Feeling the presence of another near.
Outside her curtained casement shone the gleams
Of burning orbs; and modestly she hid
Her brow and bosom with her dusky hair.
When lo! the bold intruder lurking there
Leaped through the fragile lattice, all unbid,
And half unveiled her. Then the swooning Night
Fell pale and dead, while yet her soul was white
Before that lawless Ravisher, the Light.
A little golden key.
I sat me down beside her jewel box
And turned its locks.
And oh, the wealth that lay there in my sight.
Great solitaires of words, so bright, so bright;
Words that no use can commonize; like God,
And Truth, and Love; and words of sapphire blue;
And amber words; with sunshine dripping through;
And words of that strange hue
A pearl reveals upon a wanton's hand.
