The Finer Spirit.

'Tis when the wits I have are gone
The finer powers appear;
The spirit of phantasy leads me on,
And gives my heart her cheer.
The all-licensed fool the mad king had
Was but the light of Lear,
His soul's familiar, motley clad,
That told him no lies here.

poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!