Classic Poem

To touch the heart, and make its pulses thrill,
To raise and purify the grovelling soul,
To warm with generous heat the selfish will,
To conquer passion with a mild control,
And the whole man with nobler thoughts to fill,
These are thine aims, O pure unearthly power!
These are thine influences; and therefore those
Whose wings are clogged with evil, are thy foes,
And therefore these, who have thee for their dower,
The widowed spirits with no portion here
Eat angels' food, the manna thou dost shower:
For thine are pleasures, deep, and tried, and true,
Whether to read, or write, or think, or hear,
By the gross million spurn'd, and fed on by the few.