Classic Poem

My pleasant old companions! Here you stand,
A goodly company, around my room:
Choice, racy spirits — spirits never dull;
Some gay, some grave, some pensive, none severe;
Various in mood, yet changeless in regard —
You look upon me, as you looked of yore,
With the same kind, inviting visages —
Worn, may be, somewhat wrinkled, slightly dimmed,
But constant, constant as my hopes of heaven!
Ye are my ministers, ye are my friends —
Not friends of yesterday, but long-tried friends.
What days we've passed together, and what nights!
How many heavy hours have you made light!
How many lagging moments decked with wings!
With how much knowledge have you filled my mind!
What wise instruction yielded to my heart!

" The world is too much with us " ; outward forms
And things of sense absorb our mental powers;
But you are too much from us — you are left
Too oft neglected in your quiet nooks.
The vainly wise turn from the printed page
To read the Book of Nature — falsely deemed
Impressed with brighter lessons than your own.
Absurd Philosophy! Can men who act
Life's shifting drama, scan the mystic scenes
That rise around them, with an eye as clear
As they who, shrined in contemplation, sit
And watch the changes on the mighty stage?
Must all be self-interpreters? Must each
Read for himself the characters that lie
Written on mountain, valley, forest, stream,
Or on the surface of the social world?
No! let us rather put our trust in you,
Ye thoughtful sages, priesthood of the mind!
And in your great revealings find the truth —
Truth caught by Genius from sky, air and sea,
Or learned by study on the face of earth,
Or in the workings of the human soul.