The Muse

I have made an entry on this before, but when I revisited this poem this morning, I was "brought to flight" with its gorgeous visuals, simple and beautiful language but yet, deeply profound in its message - and wish to share this wonderful poem again - yet now, in its full version.

When she approaches, her immortal presence wakes me
To feel unearthly motion made upon the air,
And like an aspen to reveal it: she is there,
Come, gone, elusive as the wind - thus she forsakes me.
Yet following after with my voice, I give her these,
Which I have written in my youth, upon the edge
Of man's affairs, and make beyond recall the pledge
To pour my strength out in her service to the less.

Many have sought what now I seek, and few have won;
Yet not the less I am driven to pray: pause in thy fleeing
While I have breath; and call to me, and lead me on
Into that garden where the Muses sing and dance,
That I may fill mine ears with sound, mine eyes with seeing,
And make for men some deep enduring utterances.

... The Muse, Martin Lings