Classic Poem

Poet, O soul! hast thou within thy wing the raise
That nature doth disown with complete color.
The enlightening beat of Heaven's plausive royalty? —
As the clouds in their nudity softly sensate,
Uplift the sordid earth from dark slumber
And deviate spirits' mystic woob,
Create animations about the hidden angels,
Regulate love in lofty nobles' helm.
Conquer, but to unconquer self's tomb,
Knight the command of universal thought,
Thou who art the stream of souls' flow.
O lyre, ne'er canst thou forgive praise,
For joy hides its stupendous coverings;
The quality of senses create and overthrow.