Page:Poems (Clement C. Moore).djvu/230



, I love the magic of thy lyre, That calms, at will, or sets the soul on fire; Whose changeful notes through ev'ry mode can stray, From deep-toned horror to the sprighliest lay. In Fancy's wilds with you I love to roam, Where all things strange and monstrous make their home. And when from wild imagination's dreams You wake to holy or heroic themes, My spirit owns the impulse of your strains; My circling blood flows freer through my veins.