In Stealth of Reasoning

My power great and my strength sublime
And it is rather easy to rob what is not mine
And the remainder to hide with a face so fine
And ideas so thrilling in so frozen a mind.
For the credit to be done, little but I cared
For meaning to provide, nothing's been spared
What you wrote I read and placed it somewhere
You would never find my reason so unfair.
Behind what has been wrongly taken from you
Still dwell pieces, though they are barely few
Parts of your mind's labour, which I thought so new
And I made them old, my pen their rescue
But what sort of rescue, mind me not;
I cannot tell your purpose in the game
But one matter I am sure in thought
That my inspiration in you I've sought.
I have no concern whatsoever
Whether you find it rude or decidedly dull
For my writing to live I needed you never
For had you been another, my poetry's sound
Would have had the same power to astound.