A coronet or crown might well
Adorn that regal brow;
And radiant there, its magic spell
Would bid the vulgar bow.
But to the poet’s gifted eye
The rich tiara’s aid
No powers nor graces could supply,
That are not here portray’d.
All rank or royalty can give
With them must pass away;
The attendant stars can ne’er outlive
Their planet’s dying ray.
But features bright as these, alone
A prouder homage win;
Here shines the intellectual throne,
The immortal mind within.
Where beauty, talent, taste combine,
The Muse’s humblest lay
Shares with the spirit of the shrine
Its freedom from decay.
The hidden spell from which it springs-
Mind-mind alone can wake,
And makes it, like the soul it sings,
Immortal for its sake!
B. B.