The Muse

"The man that's poor and prosecutes the muse,"
Said I, "alas! is like to lose his cause."
So I resolved with her to have a truce,
Quite well aware I could not learn her laws.
Though some assert that hers, like ours, have flaws
Which let her pleaders 'peach. I'm even content
To own her power and give my bickerings pause,
A liegeman to her gambol government.
For late, as sauntering through the woods I went,
She met me smiling. "Come," said I, "let's plight
Our troth again." Quoth she (with lips up-bent):
"We're not so near akin but what we might!"
So now we lead a joyous jangling life,
And kiss and quarrel--just like man and wife.

John Dovaston (1782-1854)

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2014 Selected Poetry
The Poets Garret
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