Classic Poem

Make of man the statue, the priceless piece of art.
All that Greece has given,
All that time has striven
For ages to impart,
Weld it in his sinews, mold it in his thought,
Till the humblest scavenger is gloriously wrought.
Shame upon the galleries, filled with treasures fine
While the work of Heaven — man , who is divine, —
Shivers in the hallway, shuffles through the street,
Shambles down the alley, with weak and ragged feet.

Make of man the statue, make of man the building.
What avails the gilding
Of Altar or of dome,
What the gorgeous tapestries blooming in the home,
What avails the splendor where stately mansions stand
If men who made the mansions are homeless in the land?
Shame upon the church spires climbing to the sky,
While the drudging millions suffer, starve and die.

Make of man the poem, make of man the theme;
Fruiting of the vision, flowering of the dream.
All that Rome has given,
All that art has striven
For centuries to say,
Breathe it in his spirit, coin it in his heart,
Till the poorest laborer can share the loveliest part.
Make of man the shining, pure and perfect thing:
Give him room to grow in;
Give him fields to sow in,
Teach his lips to sing.
Shame upon the white streets, brilliant with display,
While the hungry people struggle on their way.

Make of man the towering, the beautiful emprise,
Great as any temple that reaches to the skies.
Take your " worthless derelict, ignorant and vile, "
Give him skies to dream in,
Love and chance to gleam in,
Teach his soul to smile.
Give his toil its payment;
Clothe him sweet with raiment,
Give him food to nourish,
Help his thought to flourish.
Proudly lift his head, then
Freely let him stand. ...
All the rest is said, then;
Clasp his godly hand.