A poet does translate his heart br And inscribes it on a page br So forever it might live on br Through time and death and age br br He cares not what you think of his reasons br He cares not, for you don't understand br You may think that his ways are just folly br For he lives with his heart in his hand br br But his heart in his hand be his compass br And it guides him wherever he be br For the heart as you know it is blind br But it knows what the eyes cannot see br br His heart, it is a traveler br A voyager of many seas br Or maybe like the Skylark br Soaring high above the trees br br Wherever his heart does take him br Wherever his heart does stray br Whatever he dreams he ventures br And his heart does lead the way br br Pity the poet if wished br Mock his heart pure and true br Laugh at what you cannot grasp br But honor him I dobr br Catlin L.