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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341477" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Poet And The Muse</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whither, and whence, and why hast fled?<br>Thou art dumb, my muse; thou art dumb, thou art dead,<br>As a waterless stream, as a leafless tree.<br>What have I done to banish thee?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But a moon ago, the whole day long<br>My ears were full of the sound of song;<br>And still through my darkly silent dreams<br>Plashed the fitful music of far-off streams.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the night turned pale and the stars grew dim,<br>The morning chanted a dewy hymn.<br>The fragrant languor of cradled noon<br>Was lulled by the hum of a self-sung tune.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Joy came on the wings of a jocund lay,<br>And sorrow in harmony passed away;<br>And the sunny hours of tideless time<br>Were buoyed on the surges of rolling rhyme.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The moon went up in a cloudless sky,<br>Silently but melodiously;<br>And the glitter of stars and the patter of rain<br>Were notes and chords of an endless strain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And vision, and feeling, and sound, and scent,<br>Were the strings of a sensitive instrument,<br>That silently, patiently, watched and waited,<br>And unto my soul reverberated.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the orchard reddens the rounded fruit<br>'Mid the yellowing leaves, but my voice is mute.<br>The thinned copse sighs like a heart forsaken,<br>But not one chord of my soul is shaken.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through the gloaming broadens the harvest moon;<br>The fagged hind whistles his homeward tune;<br>The last load creaks up the hamlet hill;<br>'Tis only my voice, my voice that is still.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>(The Muse answers)<br>Poet, look in your poet's heart.<br>It will tell you what keepeth us twain apart.<br>I have not left you; I still am near.<br>But a music not mine enchants your ear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Another hath entered and nestles deep<br>In the lap of your love, like a babe asleep.<br>You watch her breathing from morn till night;<br>She is all your hearing and all your sight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet fear not, poet, to do me wrong.<br>She is sweeter far than the sweetest song.<br>One looks and listens the way she went,<br>As towards lark that is lost in the firmament.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So gladly to her I you resign,<br>Her caress is tenderer much than mine;<br>I hover round you, and hear her kiss<br>With wonder at its melodiousness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When you gaze on the moon, you see but her.<br>You hear her feet when the branches stir;<br>And sunrise and sunset and starlight only<br>Make their beauty, without her, feel more lonely.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So how should you, poet, hope to sing?<br>The lute of Love hath a single string.<br>Its note is sweet as the coo of the dove;<br>But 'tis only one note, and the note is Love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But when once you have paired and built your nest,<br>And can brood therein with a settled breast,<br>You will sing once more, and your voice will stir<br>All hearts with the sweetness gained from her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Austin">Alfred Austin</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341477" data-title="The Poet And The Muse de Alfred Austin" data-description="Whither, and whence, and why hast fled?
Thou art dumb, my muse; thou art dumb, thou art dead,
As a waterless stream, as a leafless tree.
What have I done to banish thee?

But a moon ago, the whole day long
My ears were full of the sound of song;
A..."></div>
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