| Milton ! thou shoudst be living at this
hour : |
| England hath need of thee : she is a
fen |
| Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and
pen, |
| Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and
bower, |
| Have forfeited their ancient English
dower |
| Of inward happiness. We are selfish men
; |
| Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; |
| And give us manners, virtue, freedom,
power. |
| Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt
apart ; |
| Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like
the sea ; |
| Pure as the naked heavens, majestic,
free, |
| So didst thou travel on life's common
way, |
| In cheerful godliness ; and yet thy
heart |
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
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