THE soul is ever clinging unto form; Action, not abstract thought, alone can warm The great heart of Humanity -- in life's fierce storm Pass they the Lyrist by. The Dramatist may wear triumphant bays; And see the wondering people's tranc'd amaze, The while unrolls great Homer to their gaze, His gorgeous, many-coloured tapestry. But lofty Pindar's heaven-directed flight, Petrarca's song, mystic and sad as night, Fall dull upon the common ear -- their might Is to the world a mystery. Such spirits dwell but with the spiritual -- Their godlike souls disdaining to enthrall; Within the limits of the actual, Men pass, unheeding the divinity. Their name, indeed, is echoed by the crowd; But from amidst the masses earthward bowed, Few lift the head, with kindred soul endowed, To list their Orphic melody. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 8 by EZRA POUND IMITATION OF POPE: A COMPLIMENT TO THE LADIES by WILLIAM BLAKE THE UNKNOWN GOD by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 30 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT HELL AND HATE by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE MONK'S TALE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER ELEGY IMITATED FROM ONE OF AKENSIDE'S ... INSCRIPTIONS by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |