A pageant of poets and other poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

The poet of the towering intellect
Lit late upon his fame, but doth abide
On the sheer crag with vivid mosses flecked
Whereby the kestrel's wafting pinions ride,—
Not further from the greatest than one stride.
He, even as Cleon in his island shrine,
From every Art its quintessence distilled;
Then in the seething caldron of his thought,
Turbid from grim endeavour half-fulfilled,
With each infusion wrought
The miracle of water turned to wine,
Sealed in its flask, matured, and clarified.
He too, within the brain's voluted coil
Appraised each duct and fibre that impel
Men toward the heaven or hell
They fashion out of life with endless toil;
Following the devious tracks by which they wind
Toward ends foredoomed and unescapable;
Lord of the analytics of the Mind.