Classic Poem

To what serves mortal beauty — dangerous; does set danc-
Ing blood — the O-seal-that-so feature, flung prouder form┬░
Than Purcell tune lets tread to? See: it does this: keeps warm┬░
Men's wit to the things that are; to what good means — where a glance┬░
Master more may than gaze, gaze out of countenance.
Those lovely lads once, wet-fresh windfalls of war's storm,┬░
How then should Gregory, a father, have gleaned else from swarm-
Èd Rome? But God to a nation dealt that day's dear chance.
To man, that once would worship block or barren stone,┬░
Our law says / love what are love's worthiest, were all known;
World's loveliest — men's selves. Self flashes off frame and face.
What do then? how meet beauty? Merely meet it; own,┬░
Home at heart, heaven's sweet gift; then leave, let that alone.┬░
Yea, wish that though, wish all, God's better beauty, grace.┬░