Classic Poem

I talk not of ecstatic vision! — no: —
Nor of conversion instantaneous speak:
Few, few gain such immunity below,
From thrall of flesh and blood, save him whose cheek
Contrition oft hath dewed with tear-drops meek:
'Tis a slow process in most hearts, to wean
Them so from this world's coil, that on them break,
With all the freshness of a real scene,
Those glories hid behind mortality's dim skreen.