For The Uttering Sweetly And Properly The

There Have Been Many Most Excellent Poets That Have Never Versified, And Now Swarm Many Versifiers That Need Never Answer To The Name Of Poets.

But Words Came Halting Forth, Wanting Invention's Stay; Invention, Nature's Child, Fled Stepdame Study's Blows; And Others' Feet Still Seemed But Strangers In My Way. Thus, Great With Child To Speak, And Helpless In My Throes, Biting My Truant Pen, Beating Myself For Spite: "fool," Said My Muse To Me, "look In Thy Heart, And Write.

The Day Seems Long, But Night Is Odious; No Sleep, But Dreams; No Dreams But Visions Strange.

Reason! How Many Eyes Hast Thou To See Evils, And How Dim, Nay, Blind, Thou Art In Preventing Them.

As Well The Soldier Dieth Who Standeth Still As He That Gives The Bravest Onset.