Sure of Success, to You I boldly write, <br />Whilst Love do's ev'ry tender Line endite; <br />Love, who is justly President of Verse, <br />Which all his Servants write, or else rehearse. <br />Phoebus (howe'er mistaken Poets dream) <br />Ne'er us'd a Verse, till Love became his Theme. <br />To his stray'd Son, still as his Passion rose, <br />He rais'd his hasty Voice in clam'rous Prose: <br />But when in Daphne he wou'd Love inspire, <br />He woo'd in Verse, set to his silver Lyre. <br /> <br />The Trojan Prince did pow'rful Numbers join <br />To sing of War; but Love was the Design: <br />And sleeping Troy again in Flames was drest, <br />To light the Fires in pitying Dido's Breast. <br /> <br /> <br />Love without Poetry's refining Aid <br />Is a dull Bargain, and but coarsely made; <br />Nor e'er cou'd Poetry successful prove, <br />Or touch the Soul, but when the Sense was Love. <br /> <br /> <br />Oh! cou'd they both in Absence now impart <br />Skill to my Hand, but to describe my Heart; <br />Then shou'd you see impatient of your Stay <br />Soft Hopes contend with Fears of sad Delay; <br />Love in a thousand fond Endearments there, <br />And lively Images of You appear. <br />But since the Thoughts of a Poetick Mind <br />Will never be to Syllables confin'd; <br />And whilst to fix what is conceiv'd, we try, <br />The purer Parts evaporate and dye: <br />You must perform what they want force to do, <br />And think what your ARDELIA thinks of you.<br /><br />Anne Kingsmill Finch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-letter-to-the-same-person/
