Classic Poem

Proceeding down a swarming city street,
My footsteps fitted to the crowd's quick pace,
A strange idea held a foremost place
Among my thoughts; but from the throng replete
With charmless presences, there chanced to greet
My gaze one nobly intellectual face
Which drove away my thought in instant space,
Then straightway passed among the rabble's heat.
Nor have I looked upon that face again,
Nor ever has the thought returned to me.
Yet if the stately brow once more I see
That now so long so longingly I've sought,
I know at once both aims I will attain —
I'll find it knitted, musing on my thought.