Classic Poem

We have to give her eyes, and hearts, and hands,
Sweet poet-brothers, lovers of my soul;
We have to crown her with the living whole
Of power that each in his degree commands.
Silent and smiling before each she stands,
Ready to lay cool palms upon his brow
If only he will swear allegiance now,
Renouncing love of home, and life, and lands,
Renouncing popularity and praise
And great laudation of most petty minds
And all the vulgar hubbub of the ways; —
The man that doth this thing most surely finds
The earth as fresh as when, drawing up the blinds,
Upon a rain-washed summer morn we gaze.