Classic Poem

I THINK the immortal servants of mankind,
If still they are watching by how slow degrees
The World-Soul greatens with the centuries,
Mourn most Man's barren levity of mind,
The ear to no large harmonies inclined,
The witless thirst for false wit's worthless lees,
The laugh mistimed in tragic presences,
The eye to all majestic meanings blind.

O prophets, martyrs, saviours, ye were great,
All truth being great to you: ye deemed Man more
Than a dull jest, God's ennui to amuse:
The world for you, held purport: Life ye wore
Proudly, as Kings their solemn robes of state;
And humbly, as the mightiest monarchs use.