While I Touch The String, Wreathe My Brows With Laurel, For The Tale I Sing Has, For Once, A Moral. Common Sense, One Night, Tho' Not Used To Gambols, Went Out By Moonlight, With Genius, On His Rambles. While I Touch The String, Etc. Common Sense Went On, Many Wise Things Saying; While The Light That Shone Soon Set Genius Straying. One His Eye Ne'er Raised From The Path Before Him; T'Other Idly Gazed On Each Night-Cloud O'Er Him. While I Touch The String, Etc. So They Came, At Last, To A Shady River; Common Sense Soon Past, Safe, As He Doth Ever; While The Boy, Whose Look Was In Heaven That Minute. Never Saw The Brook, But Tumbled Headlong In It! While I Touch The String, Etc. How The Wise One Smiled, When Safe O'Er The Torrent, At That Youth, So Wild, Dripping From The Current! Sense Went Home To Bed; Genius, Left To Shiver On The Bank, 'Tis Said, Died Of That Cold River! While I Touch The String, Etc.