RESTRAINT
RESTRAINT
I
Poet, in thy sacred verse
Nothing light or mean rehearse,
Nor its woven text employ
With thy common grief and joy.
Thoughts the unanointed share
Need have not of raiment rare,
But in prose may range at will
And be fitly clothen still.
II
Keep the fabric of thine art
As a precious thing apart—
Such a robe as only may
Wrap one on a holy day;
If at all its folds be thrown
Round experience thine own,
Let it grace in argent white
Thy most rapturous delight,
Or in darkest sable show
Deeper woes than others know,
Lest the mantle, lightly worn,
Bring thy trifling soul to scorn.
III
Let thy skill no more invest
Listless fancy, mocking jest,
Fashion of the fleeting day,
Shallow love and idle play,
Nor the wisdom, poor and plain,
Of a dull, didactic brain.
Its adornment should enfold
Thought as rich and fine as gold.
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