Classic Poem

I pity him who never dreams,
Who has no castles in the air.
Denied my fancies, life would be
A burden more than I could bear.

I pity him who never hears
The high-born perfect harmony
That haunts the air of loneliness:
How very dead his soul must be!

I pity him who cannot feel
The thrill of rapture but in lust;
Who cannot rise above himself,
And only lives because he must.

I pity him who never dreams,
Who has no castles in the air.
Denied my fancies, life would be
A burden more than I could bear.

I pity him who never hears
The high-born perfect harmony
That haunts the air of loneliness:
How very dead his soul must be!

I pity him who cannot feel
The thrill of rapture but in lust;
Who cannot rise above himself,
And only lives because he must.