The Uses of Poetry
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've fond anticipation of a dayO'erfilled with pure diversion presently,For I must read a lady poesyThe while we glide by many a leafy bay, Hid deep in rushes, where at random playThe glossy black winged May-flies, or whence fleeHush-throated nestlings in alarm,Whom we have idly frighted with our boat's long sway. For, lest o'ersaddened by such woes as springTo rural peace from our meek onward trend,What else more fit? We'll draw the latch-string And close the door of sense; then satiate wend,On poesy's transforming giant wing,To worlds afar whose fruits all anguish mend.
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