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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Richard S. Spofford

Hold, Poets!

HOLD, poets! Hear me tell

Where Beauty’s queen doth dwell!

’Tis in no foreign land,

’Tis by no storied strand,

But here her sweet renown

Haunts an old fishing-town.

Not alone Beauty’s queen,—

Virtue were proud, I ween,

Could she be known to fame

By this dear maiden’s name,

Or could her ways so win

Followers to walk therein.

Wit’s arrow on her lips

First into honey dips;

Lips at whose magic spell

Shamed Music breaks her shell.

All to bless, naught to blame,—

Blanche is her sweetest name.

Now, poets, spend your days

Piping in her pure praise;

Wake, when fond love inspires,

To her your happy lyres:

Not to my halting songs

Such a charmed theme belongs!