Classic Poem

With sudden thought I paused beside the bust;
And Cowper's touching words unbidden rose,
“Oh that those lips had language!” and those eyes
Lit with the fire of soul might once unclose!
Yet not with Uzziah sacrilege would I
Seek aught beyond the will of love supreme,
Nor sigh, Pygmalion-like, that life be given
To aught of human mould, though fair it seem.
Man may the marble shape, the plastic clay
Mould, till the thinking brain, the throbbing heart,
Seem only needed to perfect the whole:
The breath of life God only can impart.
Thanks for those powers which link us to the skies,
Though ne'er to our Creator's height we rise.