Take not, poetic souls, a word amiss:
I mean the unweaned spirits of the age,
Male, female, epicoene—’tis all the rage
To write; the gentler sex, all-licensed, kiss
The Muse’s hands, one serving that, one this,
In lyric, ode, song, pastoral; on the stage,
In sock or buskin—lively, sad, gay, sage;
Strings of its own their lyre has, which his,
Proud man’s, still lacks. When many sequent rimes,
As in the Sonnet most, offend the ear
Or please, as jangled or well rung the chimes,
With bells each under other answering clear,
Ring ye caesural pauses, rhythmic times,
Following sure lead, well-chosen pioneer.
(Henry Ellison)
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Based on Topics: Sadness Poems, Soul Poems, Anger Poems, Age Poems, Kiss Poems, Sex PoemsBased on Keywords: jangled, sequent, well-chosen, unweaned