Classic Poem

Some there are—we know their names—
On whom Nature sets her seals,
Moves them in her mighty games,
Somehow to their sense reveals
Secrets that no searcher finds;
In their hands she lays a thread
That forever winds and winds,
Underground and overhead.

These are they who feel the whir
Of the eagles' awful wings,
Ere beyond the cliff they stir
With resistless winnowings.
Lone they are, the prescient ones;
'Mid to-day's persistent roar
They behold the couriers run
From to-morrow's opening door.

When the waiting kingdoms call
They can hear the kings reply;
Plain they see the serpent crawl
Back to Eden's gate to die.
While they wait with lifted hands,
While they watch with wondering eyes,
You, that halfway understand,
Pray for souls so strangely wise!

Some there are—we know their names—
On whom Nature sets her seals,
Moves them in her mighty games,
Somehow to their sense reveals
Secrets that no searcher finds;
In their hands she lays a thread
That forever winds and winds,
Underground and overhead.

These are they who feel the whir
Of the eagles' awful wings,
Ere beyond the cliff they stir
With resistless winnowings.
Lone they are, the prescient ones;
'Mid to-day's persistent roar
They behold the couriers run
From to-morrow's opening door.

When the waiting kingdoms call
They can hear the kings reply;
Plain they see the serpent crawl
Back to Eden's gate to die.
While they wait with lifted hands,
While they watch with wondering eyes,
You, that halfway understand,
Pray for souls so strangely wise!