The Poets Mind

I. Vex not thou the poets mind With thy shallow wit; Vex not thou the poets mind, For thou canst not fathom it. Clear and bright it should be ever, Flowing like a crystal river, Bright as light, and clear as wind. II. Dark-browd sophist, come not anear; All the place is holy ground; Hollow smile and frozen sneer Come not here. Holy water will I pour Into every spicy flower Of the laurel-shrubs that hedge it around. The flowers would faint at your cruel cheer. In your eye there is death, There is frost in your breath Which would blight the plants. Where you stand you cannot hear From the groves within The wild-birds din. In the heart of the garden the merry bird chants. It would fall to the ground if you came in. In the middle leaps a fountain Like sheet lightning, Ever brightening With a low melodious thunder; All day and all night it is ever drawn From the brain of the purple mountain Which stands in the distance yonder. It springs on a level of bowery lawn, And the mountain draws it from heaven above, And it sings a song of undying love; And yet, tho its voice be so clear and full, You never would hear it, your ears are so dull; So keep where you are; you are foul with sin; It would shrink to the earth if you came in.