The Highway

Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be,

And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet,

Tempers her words to trampling horses' feet

More oft than to a chamber‑melody,—

Now blesséd you bear onward blesséd me

To her, where I my heart, safe-left, shall meet;

My Muse and I must you of duty greet

With thanks and wishes, wishing thankfully;

Be you still fair, honour'd by public heed;

By no encroachment wrong'd, nor time forgot;

Nor blamed for blood, nor shamed for sinful deed;

And that you know I envy you no lot