 | The Autobiography of John Galt |  |
217
ODE TO SIMPLICITY.
I
Mother of beauty, nymph divine,Hail, ever fair Simplicity!
Long far remote from thy green shrine,
Enchanted by the wizard powers,
I lingered in fantastic towers,
Nor felt thy mild benignity.
II
But now with the dissolving spellFly all the forms of sorcery,
And in the gentle hermit's cell,
Restraint—that to thy altar brings
A temperate feast from fruits and springs,
Allays my fevered phantasy.
III
Still more and more, sweet nymph, inspireThy proselyte and votary,
And teach him as he wakes the wire,
Those sacred touches to impart
That suddenly surprise the heart
In thy unstudied melody.
| The Autobiography of John Galt | |