William Blake

To the Muses

WHETHER on Ida's shady brow
    Or in the chambers of the East,
The chambers of the Sun, that now
    From ancient melody have ceased;

Whether in heaven ye wander fair,
    Or the green corners of the earth,
Or the blue regions of the air
    Where the melodious winds have birth;

Whether on crystal rocks ye rove,
    Beneath the bosom of the sea,
Wandering in many a coral grove;
    Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry;

How have you left the ancient love
    That bards of old enjoy'd in you!
The languid strings do scarcely move,
    The sound is forced, the notes are few.