With thoughts innumerable, fancies light,
That flit about on airy wing, or play
Among the fireborn shadows on the wall;
Till, touched by the Promethean glow, they take
A seeming form substantial, animate.
From out their thin octavo cells pour forth
The shapes ethereal of poet, sage,
Philosopher, and man of God, whose words
Make wisdom beautiful, and beauty wise.
Silent they rise before me, one by one,