20. To A Blind Poet

Thank you, poet! — At the pious threshold of my house,
Like a divine guest, you come and reveal who you are;
And the golden halo of your radiant verse
Shines around my name like a circle of stars.

Sing! As Milton sang; sing! As Homer sang.
The sensual poet cuts through sombre clouds;
The blind see in shadows worlds of brightness frank:
When the eye is extinguished, the spirit unshrouds.

Paris, May 1842.