Classic Poem

I COULD not sleep: the wind poured in my ear
Immortal names—Lear, Hamlet, Hal, Macbeth;
And through the night I heard the rushing breath
Of ghost and witch and fool go whirling by.
I followed them, under the phantom sphere
Of the pale moon, along the Avon's near
And nimbused flowing, followed to his bier—
Who had evoked them first with mighty eye.
And as I gazed upon the peaceful spire
That points above earth's most immortal dust,
I could have asked God for His starry Lyre
Out of the skies to play my praise upon.
I could have shouted, as, O Wind, you must,
‘Here lies Humanity: kneel, and pass on.’