Thy dear company

Alas! Where my meek Muse has hid herself
Leaving me alone, so pensive and poor?
Does the vile lust of my gluttonous wolf
Keep her aloof, painting me such a boor?

Do not pull me, O force of my sight-sense,
And do not spit out the accrued fine substance;
Allow this spring’s breeze-like blue vivid sky
To flow within, and feast the inner eye.

Oh, still what keeps my heart in such unrest,
And toils not to let her be at her best?
Yeah, let that be washed away by and by
In this downward gentle flow from my eye.

Lo, thy dear company makes her charm excel
And to her shy self endears me as well!