“and you, Sir Poet, shall you make, I pray,
  This child a poet with that insight rare
  They tell me poets have, that everywhere
He sees new beauties lost to common clay?”

“Nay,” said the poet, “rather lend the boy
  Your scarf of gauze, to veil his questioning eye,
  Lest in his pleasure he should aught descry
But what is fair; so...