Classic Poem

He is one who counts no public toil so hard
As idly glittering pleasures; one controlled
By no mob's haste, nor swayed by gods of gold;
Prizing, not courting, all just men's regard;
With none but Manhood's ancient Order starred,
Nor crowned with titles less august and old
Than human greatness; large-brained, limpid-souled;
Whom dreams can hurry not, nor doubts retard;
Born, nurtured of the People; living still
The People's life; and though their noblest flower,
In nought removed above them, save alone
In loftier virtue, wisdom, courage, power,
The ampler vision, the serener will,
And the fixed mind, to no light dallyings prone.