O Rhyme, How I Express My Joy in Thee
O Rhyme! how I express my joy in thee;
but sorrow drains desire, and grace received,
depriving me of your vivacious sea
of gilded imagery. I deceived,
for happiness and cheer leap from my page:
though melancholy, the womb of all odes,
the false bliss which bloomed in the soil of rage,
doomed me, and love, to life's despondent roads.
But I, both human and bard, now declare:
brave words inspired, but deep insight brought pain.
Like diamonds, forged by pressure and fine care,
bright hope reflect'd its glory, then healed my brain.
Hence, my rhymes, sung with new elation's blood,
build heaven on earth where only hell has stood.
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