Classic Poem

From slow phantom seat it stirred —
What strong crags and structures reared!
Here dimmed by sky, light's change,
The golden sun, the clean rich moon.
Lo! the sparkling jots of nightly tomb,
The roving beast of field and jungle,
The rapping wings of hawk and eagle,
The gasp of death upon birth of waves,
The blow of fearful cutting breeze,
The thicket on land by compass guide,
The fan of love and beauty spiced
To reason lend the vacant soul
His only grasp that builds for all —
Thus leads a serpent, feeling crowning tied.