Let others sing with earthy lays
Of women fair or brown;
Not such the Goddess that I praise
As worthy of a crown.
A snowy neck, a sparkling eye,
Red lips and rippling hair,
Not these the charms for which I sigh,
Not these adorn my fair.
Let those who will, with crapulous mirth,
Exalt the praise of wine;
I hold their joys of little worth,
Not such a worship mine.
To the enfranchised soul and thought
The sordid gains of sense
And mean delights are less than nought
Compared with innocence.
But let me chase from vale to hill
My visionary Love;
Pursuing ever, baffled still,
Yet beckoned from above.
From youth to age, from life to death,
This dream my soul shall keep
Till with my last expiring breath
I wake at length from sleep.