Lady! I Rifled A Parnassian Cave (But Seldom Trod) Of Mildly-Gleaming Ore; And Culled, From Sundry Beds, A Lucid Store Of Genuine Crystals, Pure As Those That Pave The Azure Brooks, Where Dian Joys To Lave Her Spotless Limbs; And Ventured To Explore Dim Shades For Reliques, Upon LetHe's Shore, Cast Up At Random By The Sullen Wave. To Female Hands The Treasures Were Resigned; And Lo This Work! A Grotto Bright And Clear From Stain Or Taint; In Which Thy Blameless Mind May Feed On Thoughts Though Pensive Not Austere; Or, If Thy Deeper Spirit Be Inclined To Holy Musing, It May Enter Her.