Classic Poem

If to have paced within thy House of Thought
Among thy Mountains, from its windowed wings
Surveying dominions of the Law-of-Things
As into cloud, and star, and tempest wrought,
And trees, and gods, and cities,—if to have caught
Thy splendour, and thy pathos, and thy song
(Thy hand upon my shoulder, Master, long
From room to aery room) avail me aught,

Then not without some scope of thy old truth,
Then not without some ring of thy old worth,
My sturdy voice of still unconquered youth
Hath in an unknown tongue reported thee
Unto a Continent of thy dear Earth …
To thee unknown, beyond an unknown sea.

If to have paced within thy House of Thought
Among thy Mountains, from its windowed wings
Surveying dominions of the Law-of-Things
As into cloud, and star, and tempest wrought,
And trees, and gods, and cities,—if to have caught
Thy splendor, and thy pathos, and thy song
(Thy hand upon my shoulder, Master, long
From room to aëry room) avail me aught,

Then not without some scope of thy old truth,
Then not without some ring of thy old worth,
My sturdy voice of still unconquered youth
Hath in an unknown tongue reported thee
Unto a Continent of thy dear Earth …
To thee unknown, beyond an unknown sea.