Classic Poem

The principle of love must be implanted,
Or e'en divine love ne'er will take its root:
Small hope for those who're of this instinct scanted:
Small hope for those involved in low pursuit
Of interest or ambition! Who with brute,
And earthward gaze see nought beyond themselves:
But hope, ye mourners, who with anguish mute,
See each foundation, like a train of elves,
Vanish, which human skill unprofitably delves.