A Lyric To a Muse

SHE beams with joy, like one in love with love itself and all that’s lush; and when the Grecian gods above unloose her from the morning's blush, she descends like the gentle dove with the notes of a crooning thrush. With gilded locks, like flax most fair, and liquid, limpid eyes so blue, none is like her or can compare to her likeness and brilliant hue; which give light to the bold who dare beseech her for her god-like view. Thus foreordained as mythic Muse to be revered as though a saint, which no man can therefore refuse or with vile words destroy or taint; so let all creatures freely choose to worship her without constraint.