Blue on Black

WHETHER on Ida's shady brow
Or in the chambers of the East
The chambers of the Sun that now
From ancient melody have ceased;

Whether in heaven ye wander fair
Or the green corners of the earth
Or the blue regions of the air
Where the melodious winds have birth;

Whether on crystal rocks ye rove
Beneath the bosom of the sea
Wandering in many a coral grove;
Fair Nine forsaking Poetry;

How have you left the ancient love
That bards of old enjoy'd in you!
The languid strings do scarcely move
The sound is forced the notes are few.

- William Blake, "To the Muses"