Classic Poem

Each word, each thought—each single drop of ink
That lips or pens of master-minds let fall
Becomes a germ—to make new millions think:
So said the noble bard—nor is this all—
Not only from the vasty deep they call
Spirits that come—embodied in new forms
But these again at pleasure we recall
Helped by each art that into being warms
The mind's creations.—Shakespeare's stricken deer
Mid Cowper's holiest—Moore's most tender themes,
In Proteus beauty charms the heart and ear:
And poor Genevra's innocence which gleams
In Rogers' verse even through her fearful bier
In Power's marble now immortal beams!