Worthy My Muse Poem by James McLain

(It can make less than her,
and or something more as for my Muse?)
I perceive her worthiness, hers is, as for desire,
he who can be made carry to order to be worthy,
of your respect by the seat of well-chosen subjects.
The muse in this way, enthusiastic positions.
To be worthy of words to your praise.
But if my this your muse named after,
harms feeling, and the muse it is impudent.
Maintain the silence, grieving is sorrowing and loneliness,
and you sigh trifler of despair, as for the muse.
Fighting to get out, sitting down and denouncing silence.
Therefore one way for her to play it permits.
And the secret of she who wastes naught the note.
Within him resides kept permanently with her secret.
Her song rings of cheerfulness and carelessness combined.
It is rough and free, free from fear and all fear.
The muse is clearness transparent.
Could freedom for most it is feared, it is everything,
then, the fear of thee which the muse can make happen.