With thee bold Milton groped, his eyes thick sealed,
And wrote his name on Heaven's own battle-field;
Thee, Robert Burns, voice of the heart's best song,
Fashioned into a bagpipe sweet and strong;
Thee, Thomas Moore—his soul to music set—
Made to an Irish harp that echoes yet;
With thee Longfellow struck a home-made lyre,
And wrote "America," in lines of fire!
Through thy sharp, quivering point, words have been given,
Out of the flaming lexicons of Heaven!