THE POETS APOLOGY
"Why of yourself do you for ever write,
Tiring us with your dreams, your loves and woes?
Your petty thoughts and passions are too slight
On which to raise a structure so verbose."
My friend, when I can wander in the sun
Divested of my shadow, then will I
Seek from myself and mine own thoughts to run.
And strive new worlds of fancy to descry.
The poet, though a Shakespeare, is a man.
And mirrors all men in his plastic mind,
And so, if but successfully he can
Express himself, expresses all mankind:
'Tis only when he's to himself untrue
That Nature and the Muse bid him adieu.
Tiring us with your dreams, your loves and woes?
Your petty thoughts and passions are too slight
On which to raise a structure so verbose."
My friend, when I can wander in the sun
Divested of my shadow, then will I
Seek from myself and mine own thoughts to run.
And strive new worlds of fancy to descry.
The poet, though a Shakespeare, is a man.
And mirrors all men in his plastic mind,
And so, if but successfully he can
Express himself, expresses all mankind:
'Tis only when he's to himself untrue
That Nature and the Muse bid him adieu.