Divine, whose poesy disdains control
Of slavish bonds! each poem is a soul,
Incarnate born of thee, and given thy name.
Thy genius is unshackled as a flame
That sunward soars, the central light its goal;
Thy thoughts are lightnings, and thy numbers roll
In Nature's thunders that put art to shame.
Exalter of the land that gave thee birth,
Though she insult thy grand gray years with wrong
Of infamy, foul-branding thee with scars
Of felon-hate, still shalt thou be on earth
Revered, and in Fame's firmament of song
Thy name shall blaze among the eternal stars!
--_Leonard Wheeler_

O Titan soul, ascend your starry steep,
On golden stair, to gods and storied men!
Ascend! nor care where thy traducers creep.
For what may well be said of prophets, when
A world that's wicked comes to call them good?
Ascend and sing! As kings of thought who stood
On stormy heights, and held far lights to men,
Stand thou, and shout above the tumbled roar,
Lest brave ships drive and break against the shore.
What though thy sounding song be roughly set?
Parnassus' self is rough! Give thou the thought,
The golden ore, the gems that few forget;
In time the tinsel jewel will be wrought.
Stand thou alone, and fixed as destiny,
An imaged god that lifts above all hate;
Stand thou serene and satisfied with fate;
Stand thou as stands the lightning-riven tree,
That lords the cloven clouds of gray Yosemite.
Yea, lone, sad soul, thy heights must be thy home;
Thou sweetest lover! love shall climb to thee
Like incense curling some cathedral dome,
From many distant vales. Yet thou shalt be,
O grand, sweet singer, to the end alone.
But murmur not. The moon, the mighty spheres,
Spin on alone through all the soundless years;
Alone man comes on earth; he lives alone;
Alone he turns to front the dark unknown.
--_Joaquin Miller_

I knew there was an old, white-bearded seer
Who dwelt among the streets of Camden town;
I had the volumes which his hand wrote down--
The living evidence we love to hear
Of one who walks reproachless, without fear.
But when I saw that face, capped with its crown
Of snow-white almond-buds, his high renown
Faded to naught, and only did appear
The calm