Classic Poem

Thou demi-god of Rome, whose fame
Down twenty centuries comes to me,
How burns my soul to be like thee
Whene'er I hear thy mighty name!

Fades Shakespeare; fade those kings of song,
Blind Homer, Milton the divine,
The Mantuan and the Florentine.
Allures no more that laureled throng.

Them I revere, but thee I love,
O Julius, this the spirit's truth,
Who, pale and dissolute in thy youth,
In manhood the strong world didst move.

Yes, thee I love, thou rulest my thought,
Great Master of both pen and sword;
Better than any written word,
The act to which the dream is wrought.