When the Muse Will Answer

In my mind, but distant,
Always walking and seeing what is there,
Trundling among thought towers
And lazy plains of graceless imagining

Skipping through worried trunks and saddened leaf-fall,
Seeing the rare buds and limbs greening
Comes now the bright angel's ghost, psyche in action,
goddess and Muse,
Seeming Aoede, or Erato, or Thalia, laughing.

Why she wears your smile I cannot answer, but
She never answers to any name but yours.
No matter what I call her by, she will not come
Until I know she is you.