Classic Poem

Here fell young Icarus. To heaven's high gate
Fearless, he leapt against the flaming sky,
Only to fall with blasted wings, and die,
Leaving all heroes envious of his fate:
O sacred travail of a soul elate,
Defeat—more glorious than victory!
O sacred suffering thrilled with ecstasy,
All time shall hold his fame inviolate:

Dauntless, the boy pursued his perilous goal,
The effort failed, but not the steadfast soul,
Among the blazing stars he found his doom:
Death could not turn him from his high emprise:
His aim was heaven—deep in the sea he lies:
Was ever nobler dream, or richer tomb?