The Poetry of Real Life | ||
9
MY POETRY.
My verse is like the ivy, for it growsAround neglected things: to beautify
The commonplace, and touch with poesy
The Daily and the Homely—and it throws
Its large affections, tendril-like and close,
Round the familiar hopes and fears whereby
The household bosom of Humanity
Is touched, as round the cottage-porch the rose!
And like the many-breasted Venus is
My Muse—yea! she has paps and teats for all
Earth's children: neither suckles she for this
Or that one sect, but for Man's general
Humanity at large: that none may miss
Of nurture at her breasts poetical!
The Poetry of Real Life | ||