Classic Poem

Ye sages, who have broken so many a bar.
Dethroned Saturnian gods of Time and Space,
Thrilled lovers' hearts with voice and sight afar!
Is not the flower more precious than the vase?

Leave not the larger while you scan the less;
The spirit cries for bread and not a stone.
Have pity on our human loneliness:
Servants of Heaven, give us back our own!

Ah, I have trust that, ere my body claim
Its share of all this beauty to be mine,
Across the vague, as clear as mountain flame,
Shall come the certain, the confirming sign.