Not like a daring, bold, aggressive boy, <br /> Is inspiration, eager to pursue, <br />But rather like a maiden, fond, yet coy, <br /> Who gives herself to him who best doth woo. <br /> <br />Once she may smile, or thrice, thy soul to fire, <br /> In passing by, but when she turns her face, <br />Thou must persist and seek her with desire, <br /> If thou wouldst win the favor of her grace. <br /> <br />And if, like some winged bird she cleaves the air, <br /> And leaves thee spent and stricken on the earth, <br />Still must thou strive to follow even there, <br /> That she may know thy valor and thy worth. <br /> <br />Then shall she come unveiling all her charms, <br /> Giving thee joy for pain, and smiles for tears; <br />Then shalt thou clasp her with possessing arms, <br /> The while she murmurs music in thine ears. <br /> <br />But ere her kiss has faded from thy cheek, <br /> She shall flee from thee over hill and glade, <br />So must thou seek and ever seek and seek <br /> For each new conquest of this phantom maid.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/inspiration-3/
