Thomas Bailey Aldrich - Invita Minerva lyrics

Not of Desire alone is music born, Not till the Muse wills is our pa**ion crowned; Unsought she comes; if sought but seldom found, Repaying thus our longing with her scorn. Hence is it poets often are forlorn, In super-subtle chains of silence bound, And mid the crowds that compa** them around Still dwell in isolation night and morn, With knitted brow and cheek all pa**ion-pale Showing the baffled purpose of the mind. Hence is it I, that find no prayers avail To move my Lyric Mistress to be kind, Have stolen away into this leafy dale, Drawn by the flutings of the silvery wind.