Classic Poem

When first I home return'd, and took my part
Once more in rural duties, I had brought
A memory stored with forms of ancient art,
And faithful visions kept them in my thought;
Day after day Apollo stretch'd his arm,
And gazed in triumph, o'er our village road;
While Fancy heard, aloof, the noise of harm,
That reach'd the Python from the Archer-god.
Let me not leave thee, O my Lord, for these,
Nor merge in Art my Christian fealty!
Through all the winsome sculptures of old Greece
Keep Thou an open walk for Thee and me!
No whiteness is like Thine, All-pure and good!
No marble weighs against Thy precious Blood.