I

Vex not thou the poet's mind

With thy shallow wit:

Vex not thou the poet's mind;

For thou can'st not fathom it.

Clear and bright it should be ever,

Flowing like a crystal river;

Bright as light, and clear as wind:

Clear as summer mountainstreams,

Bright as the inwoven beams,

Which beneath their crisping sapphire

In the midday, floating o'er

The golden sands, make evermore

To a blossomstarréd shore.

Hence away, unhallowed laugher!