Ah , did we live the poems that we write,
What heroes, saints, a wondering world would see!
And how, for every poet, there would be
A spirit clad in panoply of light,—
Courageous, calm, divining Truth at sight,
To follow her, come rout or victory!
And such there are whose lives and songs agree;
Like tropic growths where flower and fruit unite,
On the same bough, to sweeten all the air.
O, poets! let your fruited deeds be fair
As are your blossoming words; for, thus allied,
Each of the other shall be justified;
And he is greatest who does best rehearse
In his own life the greatness of his verse.