I knew thee first as one may know the fame
Of some apostle, as a man may know
The mid-day sun far-shining o'er the snow.
I hail'd thee prince of poets! I became
Vassal of thine, and warm'd me at the flame
Of thy pure thought, my spirit all aglow
With dreams of peace, and pomp, and lyric show,
And all the splendours, Master! of thy name.
But now, a man reveal'd, a guide for men,
I see thy face, I clasp thee by the hand;
And though the Muses in thy presence stand,
There's room for me to loiter in thy ken.
O lordly soul! O wizard of the pen!
What news from God? What word from Fairyland?