Classic Poem

This eightieth year of thine sits crowned in light
To lift our England from her fleshly mire:
Two generations view thee as a fire
Whence they have drawn what burns in them most bright:
For thou hast bared the roots of life with sight
Piercing; in language stronger than the lyre:
And thou hast shown the way must man aspire,
Is through the old sweat and anguish Adamite,
As at the first. Unsweet might seem his fate.
Sole with a spade between the stars & earth! —
Giving much labour for his little mirth,
And soldier-service till he fail to strike:
But such thine was, & thine to contemplate
Shall quicken young ambition for the like.