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The Poems of James Russell Lowell

He who hath felt life’s mystery
Press on him like thick night
Whose soul hath known no history
But struggling after light; 
He who hath seen dim shapes arise
In the soundless depths of soul
Which gaze on him with meaning eyes
Full of the mighty whole

Yet will no word of healing speak
Although he pray night long
‘O help me, save me, I am weak
And ye are wondrous strong!’ –
 Who in the midnight dark and deep
Hath felt a voice of might
Come echoing through the halls of sleep
From the lone heart of night
And startling from his restless bed
Hath watched and wept to know
What meant that oracle of dread
That stirred his being so;
 
He who hath felt how strong and great
This Godlike soul of man
And looked full in the eyes of fate
Since life and thought began
The armour of whose moveless trust
Knoweth no spot of weakness
Who hath trod fear into the dust
Beneath the feet of meekness; -
He who hath calmly born his cross
Knowing himself the king
Of time, nor counted it a loss
To learn by suffering; -

 And who worshipped woman still
With a pure soul and lowly
Nor ever hath in deed or will
Profaned her temple lowly
He is the poet, him unto
The gift of song is given
Whose life is lofty, strong and true
Who never fell from Heaven
He is the poet, from his lips
To live forevermore
Majestically as full sailed ships
The words of wisdom pour