Classic Poem

Three mighty sweep o'er earth, unheeding
Or ban, or troop, or wall;
They halt not, but are ever speeding
Where thrones or idols fall.

One, a star-beam shot from heaven,
And one, a whirlwind sound,
And one the shock of the fiery levin
That rends the solid ground.

First flies Thought, on heaven's altars
Flamed and winged for speed;
Next the Word, which cries nor falters;
And last, the perfect Deed.