A Selection from the Lyrical Poems of Robert Herrick

9. NOT EVERY DAY FIT FOR VERSE

     'Tis not ev'ry day that I
     Fitted am to prophesy:
     No, but when the spirit fills
     The fantastic pannicles,
     Full of fire, then I write
     As the Godhead doth indite.
     Thus enraged, my lines are hurl'd,
     Like the Sibyl's, through the world:
     Look how next the holy fire
     Either slakes, or doth retire;
     So the fancy cools:—till when
     That brave spirit comes again.