My kingdom here within the child-like mind.

[Pg 36]

[Pg 36]

EUTERPE

O lyric muse, thou didst not tune alone

The lyre that loving Orpheus smote

With subtle touch, who struck the golden note

That pierced dread Pluto's heart of stone,

And won again Eurydice his own;

Nor yet Erate's lute, nor Sappho's throat

That thrilled the ear in Grecian isles remote,

Where Homer sang, and Art had built her throne:

But thou, Euterpe, touched blind Milton's tongue,

And swept the thousand chords of Shakespeare's soul;

Woke Byron from his hours of idle dream,

And then he sang mankind a deathless song.

But thou at last didst reach the lyric goal

Of art in Tennyson's immortal theme.

[Pg 37]

[Pg 37]

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