Andrew Marvell

SPIRIT, that lookest from the starry fold
 * Of truth's white flock, next to thy Milton there

Accept my reverance, though feebly told;
 * And oh, my heart, from thy example rare,
 * Henceforth its being for worhtiest ends would bear!

Thy thoughts and deeds were towering all and bold, And like the steadfast columns that uphold
 * Some awful temple, to thy duty were!
 * How much thy story has enlarged my ken

Of human greatness! Of mere heroes I
 * With indignation ever read—but when

Of Thee, as lifted into Virtue's sky, I feel how nobly all may live and die,
 * And glory in my brotherhood with men.