I oped "Soule's Synonymes."
And now a pause with pen in air,
And deep excogitation,
When, lo! there beamed upon my soul
The following lucubration: -
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"Ideas like to the fleecy clouds
Oft seen on summer day,
Fair shadows drifting through the sky
In evanescent play,
"Strange forms and shapes of things unknown" -
But here full short I stopped;
And down from the fair fleecy clouds
To hard bare earth I dropped.
And notwithstanding helps and hymns,
And every strained endeavor,
My muse is still a voiceless muse,
And mute I fear forever.