Classic Poem

O pathos inborn, command o'er will's aim,
Whose treatise hath warned immortal youth
From dire proceeding, through influence
Can withhold its guise, upbraiding
Discipline to mortal. Gifted paths
Still bear doubtful grace in finding its
Course; self's relief doth quote nigh.
Marvel returns, but each point of view
Shall inherit temptation that
Fitteth its claim and not direct pulsive
Purity. Who sprung apostle fame?
That ointment of crystal oil bathed the cranium
Of Saint Christ; or judgment day's
Furious light claps and thunders earth's unripe ways.