L'Envoi to London Poems

I DO not sing for Maidens. They are roses
Blowing along the pathway I pursue:
No sweeter things the wondrous world dis-closes,
And they are tender as the morning dew.
Blessed be maids and chi'dren: day and night
Their holy scent is with me as I write.

I do not sing for School-boys or School-men.
To give them ease I have no languid theme
When, weary with the wear of book and pen,
They seek their trim poetic Academe;
Nor can I sing them amorous ditties, bred
Of too much Ovid on an empty head.

I do not sing aloud in measured tone
Of those fair paths the easy-soul' d pursue;
Nor do I sing for Lazarus alone,
I sing for Dives and the Devil too.
Ah! would the feeble song I sing might swell
As high as Heaven, and as deep as Hell!