Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/165

 Loathing thy polluted lot,
 * Hie thee, Maiden, hie thee hence!

Seek thy weeping Mother's cot,
 * With a wiser innocence.

Thou hast known deceit and folly,
 * Thou hast felt that vice is woe:

With a musing melancholy
 * Inly arm'd, go, Maiden! go.

Mother sage of Self-dominion,
 * Firm thy steps, O Melancholy!

The strongest plume in wisdom's pinion
 * Is the memory of past folly.

Mute the sky-lark and forlorn,
 * While she moults the firstling plumes,

That had skimm'd the tender corn,
 * Or the bean-field's odorous blooms.

Soon with renovated wing
 * Shall she dare a loftier flight,

Upward to the day-star spring
 * And embathe in heavenly light.