Classic Poem

On, on, in firm progression, sure and slow,
More scorning hindrance, as ye meet it more;
Surmounting what ye cannot thorough go,
And forcing what ye fail in climbing o'er;
Soon shall ye gaze upon the bliss attained,
And worth attainment fourfold as severe;
The glorious meed for zealous souls ordained,
Shall shine upon you, palpable and clear;
Then when the starry coronal of Fame
Shall gird your brows, all-perdurably bright;
When ye have seen the solitary flame,
That burns upon the solitary height,
Ye will not, then, your daily cares misname
As toil—well spent, for rapture to requite!