Here you will find the Poem Loss And Gain of poet Ralph Waldo Emerson
Virtue runs before the muse And defies her skill, She is rapt, and doth refuse To wait a painter's will. Star-adoring, occupied, Virtue cannot bend her, Just to please a poet's pride, To parade her splendor. The bard must be with good intent No more his, but hers, Throw away his pen and paint, Kneel with worshippers. Then, perchance, a sunny ray From the heaven of fire, His lost tools may over-pay, And better his desire.