Let now a higher poetry descend As befits the dawning of a golden age, An opening on greater worlds attend In golden verse upon a crystal page.
To pen from some diviner depth within A truth distilled to essence, spare and pure, Make harmony of line and image kin And rhythm of its pulse-beat strong and sure.
Eternal fount of all-creative might Slake my thirst for the sole inevitable word Open to me the speech that is born of light, Attune me to the Voice yet rarely heard.
O Cosmic Poet guide these halting hands To be an instrument of Thy commands.
Poems Undated (1727)
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