Honour demands my song. Forget the ground
My generous muse, and sit among the stars!
There sing the soul that, conscious of her birth,
Lives like a native of the vital world
Amongst these dying clods, and bears her state
Just to herself: how nobly she maintains
Her character, superior to the flesh,
She wields her passions like her limbs, and knows
The brutal powers were born but to obey.
Watts.