Classic Poem

The strong man awhile in his kingdom is lord,
Like eagles his glory is flying;
But broken at last is the conquering sword,
And the eagles in dust will be lying.
What Might has created is short-lived and vain:
Like winds of the desert it passes again.

But Truth lives forever. Though weapons be whirled,
Her brow shines undimmed o'er the pother.
'Tis she that leads on through the night of this world
And points us the way to another.
The True is eternal: from heaven to earth
With each generation the word echoes forth.

The Right is eternal: though trod in the dust,
Yet never her lily shall perish.
Though Evil have won all the world from the just,
Your will yet availeth to cherish.
Though Force and Deceit all without may have reft,
Yet hid in your bosom a stronghold is left.

The fiery will which was barred from its choice
Takes form, like to God, and is action.
The Right finds a weapon, the True finds a voice,
Men rise up in bold insurrection.
The gifts you have brought and the dangers you've run,
Arise out of Lethe like stars, every one.

And Poetry's not as a bow in the sky,
Or volatile perfume of flowers.
The beauty you make is not dust that shall die,
The ages but quicken its powers.
Eternal is Beauty, its metal sublime
We ardently seek in the waters of Time.

Then seize on all Truth, venture all for the Right,
Make Beauty with joy for your wages!
These three from humanity never take flight,
With them we appeal to the ages.
Whatever Time gave, unto Time you must pay,
The Eternal alone dwells within you for aye.