Poetaster

Erato, Polyhymnia, why should
You dance before me to the darkling wood
And leave no trace of where you've gone when I,
In clumsy metre, try to follow? Why
Do you but tempt me in to leave me be
Alone with brooding foliage? Ay me,
Why grant me sight of your fair shapes before
My weary eyes, but to appear no more?
The sandy path winds like a vicious snake
That coils upon itself, fangs poised to take
My thinning blood – I go as in a dream
With in the corners of my eyes the gleam
Of something bright and shiny, something sweet,
Too swift and immaterial to meet
Or hail – the lure of genuine truth that lies
Beyond the reach of mortal mankind's eyes
Though knowledge won't suffice to end my quest,
My trying to fulfil the hard behest
You put upon my shoulders, while your aid
You both withhold from him that you have made
A wide-eyed wanderer down hill and dale,
Imprisoned in a vision, without bail
But bound and shackled to your ball and chain,
A fool, a seeker, fated to remain
A plodding member of the long, long queue
Of humble pilgrims come to call on you:
We will come knocking at the tradesmen's door,
Compulsive rhymesters, potterers that pour
Our wooden verse and jingling doggerel
Into unwary ears, with naught to tell
But our own sorrows, to be turned away
Or just ignored until the fateful day
When, as it's been enough, you will entice
Us to the forest glade, dressed in the guise
Of maidens fairer than the sun – and there
You'll tune our senses to the heavy air
Of pine trees' resin, and you'll disappear:
Sad-voiced Melpomene is walking here.