Classic Poem

I went to see the Poet in his home
Where Concord guards its genius-memoried plain,
Royally round its meadows I did roam,
For troops of visions formed a kingly train.

And yet I did not touch his honored hand,
Nor did I gaze into those eyes so wise;
For thus I thought: Have I not met his mind?
'Tis better than the “meeting of the eyes.”

Stay in thy station like the steadfast stars,
Or sunlit summits of the mountains hoary;
Too near approach the finer music mars,
Ye lose the brightness, and ye lose the glory!

The gold of friendship overweighs the dross
Of fame, and so a willing way I wend
With her, the good, and count it not a loss
To leave the Poet and to love the Friend.