From “Susan: A Poem of Degrees”
HER Master gave the signal, with a look:
Then, timidly as if afraid, she took
In her rough hands the Laureate’s dainty book,
And straight began. But when she did begin,
Her own mute sense of poesy within
Broke forth...

Touch lightly Nature's sweet Guitar

Unless thou know'st the Tune

Or every Bird will point at thee

Because a Bard too soon —

Poet: