 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
“THE CRITIC SCANNED THE POET'S BOOK”
The critic scanned the poet's bookAnd ranged it calmly in its place;—
A soul that felt its music shook
As if a bolt struck down through space;
And in that soul, like flower from seed,
The music turned to lofty deed
That sanctified a race.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |