It's been five days since I've writ anything;
Five days pure hell, unendurable hell.
If I could urge my Muse to sometimes sing
Could I escape from this infernal cell?
Oh, what I wouldn't give for lovely words!
Discovering the beauty in all things.
Like as to the songs of prophetic birds
Delightfully announcing coming Spring.
Would that I could approach their loveliness
Responsive to all nature, bright and true.
Incorporating their spontaneous,
Tender ministrations, blessed anew.
Enduring all troubles I'll ever try.
If only I could coax my words to fly.
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