An Exhortation
Chameleons
feed
on
light
and
air:
Poets'
food
is
love
and
fame:
If
in
this
wide
world
of
care
Poets
could
but
find
the
same
With
as
little
toil
as
they,
Would
they
ever
change
their
hue
As
the
light
chameleons
do,
Suiting
it
to
every
ray
Twenty
times
a
day?
Poets
are
on
this
cold
earth,
As
chameleons
might
be,
Hidden
from
their
early
birth
In
a
cave
beneath
the
sea;
Where
light
is,
chameleons
change:
Where
love
is
not,
poets
do:
Fame
is
love
disguised:
if
few
Find
either,
never
think
it
strange
That
poets
range.
Yet
dare
not
stain
with
wealth
or
power
A
poet's
free
and
heavenly
mind:
If
bright
chameleons
should
devour
Any
food
but
beams
and
wind,
They
would
grow
as
earthly
soon
As
their
brother
lizards
are.
Children
of
a
sunnier
star,
Spirits
from
beyond
the
moon,
O,
refuse
the
boon!
