Читать книгу Our Profession and Other Poems - Jared Barhite - Страница 6

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Didactic muse Calliope,

Expand thy soothing silent wings,

Touch chords of measured harmony

Wherein the soul ecstatic sings,

Let language fraught with living truth

Find such expression by thy art,

As shall assist the guides of youth

To fire the soul and win the heart.

Remove the barriers which so long

Have held in thraldom many a mind,

Sing to the deaf a ransom-song,

Be eyes to those whose souls are blind;

Teach those who mould the plastic mind

To know that God hath never given

A mission weightier, more refined,

To angels round the courts of heaven,

Than that of training human minds

Committed unto human hands,

In which the spirit e'er survives

And through eternity expands.

Paint truthfully the living dead

Whose sensibilities were slain

By tyros, oft unskilled, unread,

In all the workings of the brain;

Whose concepts of the avenues

That reach the mind of tender youth,

Are labyrinths of tangled views

Devoid of art, science, and truth;

Touch but that chord of magic power

Which gives the soul augmented bliss,

And lifts it for the present hour

Above the world's base selfishness;

Then let the search-light of the soul

Illumine every page that's read,

Until an animated whole

Shall supersede the living dead.

Then, then shall dawn the golden day

When Ignorance shall shamed-faced fly

Before the potent living ray

Of mind, touched by effulgency

That pours its light in vital force,

Upon the mind of plastic youth,

And leads it gently to the source

Of light and scientific truth.