Ngoc Nguyen Poet I do not know?

Inconstant Muse

When the muse leaves, his quill runs dry;
     then joyful songs, sweet poetry,
drain from his pen, though write he try,
     as hollow strains lack symmetry. 

How then to woo the Muse once more?
     Her treason robs him of his art.
What offerings, what gifts, might restore
     against the whims of a Muse's heart?

But love is mild, and then patient:
     love waits, with no pose or pretense.
His heart still burns incandescent
     for her. To restore her, no expense

will be spared. And though she feels distant,
     his constant heart will break her whim. 
She'll not remain, forever transient, 
     but turn her radiant face to him.

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