Classic Poem

Winged by desire and thee, O dear delight!
As still the vast and succoring air I tread,
So, mounting still, on swifter pinions sped,
I scorn the world, and heaven receives my flight.
And if the end of Ikaros be nigh,
I will submit, for I shall know no pain:
And falling dead to earth, shall rise again;
What lowly life with such high death can vie?
Then speaks my heart from out the upper air,
'Whither dost lead me? sorrow and despair
Attend the rash.' and thus I make reply:--
'Fear thou no fall, nor lofty ruin sent;
Safely divide the clouds, and die content,
When such proud death is dealt thee from on high.'