Classic Poem

This body — O the body of this death!
Strive as thou wilt, do all that mortal can,
This is the sum, a man is but a man,
And weak in error strangely wandereth
Down flowery lanes with pain and peril fraught,
Conscious of what he doth, and what he ought,
Alas! But wherefore? — scarce my plaintiff breath
Wafts its faint question to the listening sky,
When thus in answer some kind spirit saith:
" Man, thou art mean, altho' thine aim be high:
All matter hath one law, concentring strong
To some attractive point — and thy world's core
Is the foul seat of hell, and pain, and wrong:
Yet courage, man! the strife shall soon be o'er,
And that poor leprous husk sore travailing long,
Shall yet cast off its death in second birth,
And flame anew a heavenly centered earth! "