Classic Poem

As Samson in the temple of his foes —
Be patient in the hand that crushes thee, —
'Twere but one sudden struggle, one wild throe;
Like the blind Anarch, thou wert venged and free.

This deadly power discerning in thyself,
Keep guarded from the slow match of desire;
Who disembosoms the volcanic Earth
Shall not forget to loose the latent fire.

So in an atom lies the Infinite,
Concentred thou mayst deem it, not confined;
So in the narrow prison of thy life
Be conscious of the boundless scope of mind.

Wherever truth can beckon, Thought can spring
Setting her winged steps on whirling spheres;
She gains the upper calm — the height serene,
And sees below, the pent domain of tears.

Stript of thy happier attributes of birth,
The virtue of thy race is left thee still,
If, comprehending all the scope of bliss,
Thy liberty be larger than thy will.