Classic Poem

The old world moans and topes,
Is restless and ill at ease;
And the old-world politicians
Prescribe for the new disease.

I have stooped my head to listen
(Its voice is far from strong)
For the burthen of its moanings
As it topes all night long.

I have watched a patient vigil
Beside its fever bed,
And I think that I can tell you
The burthen of what it said:—

“As sick folk long for morning
And long for night again,
So long for noble objects
The hearts of noble men.

“They long and grope about them,
With feverish hands they grope
For objects of endeavour,
And exercise for hope.

“And they shall be our heroes
And be our Avatar,
Who shall either reach the objects
Or tell us what they are!”