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The Poetry of Real Life

A New Edition, Much Enlarged and Improved. By Henry Ellison
 

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MY MUSE.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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173

MY MUSE.

My Muse, they say, has not succeeded yet
In marrying her thoughts to verse divine,
But that the outward and the visible sign
Of consummation, which a seal should set
To the sweet union, and one beget
Of two, is wanting—p'rhaps some may incline
To think the bans of wedlock, which confine
Desire, and the fees, a sacred debt
To Mother-church, have not been duly paid
And published; or the marriage-rite not read
In place quite orthodox, by priest arrayed
In robes canonical—but if the head
And front of my offending this be made,
Know, Nature read the bans, and God the blessing said!
Oh yes, my dearest Muse, we were not wed
In place unsanctioned—no unblessed hand
Between us knit the holy marriage-band:
Or made it vain with mumbled forms and dead,
And hireling-fees, to Mammon duly paid!
We had a living blessing at command,
And in the presence of our God did stand,
Who from the holy book of nature read
The nuptial rite—and on thee, then my bride,
Spring waited, as thy bridesmaid, not so fair
As thou, disparaged at thy lovelier side!
The Graces tended thee, with all the pride
Of Love, and thou didst from the temple bear
Blessings and costly presents, from all there!