Hear, my great ones, why I called ye, Hear and help me ye who can, Hear and tell me how I further Shall proceed in making man.

Ponder well before ye answer, And consider, children dear;— In our image I would make him, Free from stain, from blemish clear.

Of my holy fire I’d give him, Crowned monarch shall he be, Ruling with a sway unquestioned Over earth and air and sea.

Birds across the blue sky winging Swift shall fly before his face,— Silver fishes in the ocean, Savage lion in the chase.

—How? This toy of froth and vapor, Thought the Senate, filled with fear, If so wide his kingdom stretches, Shortly he will break in here!

So the Lord they answered, saying:— Mind and strength Thy creature give, Form him in our very image, Lord, but wingless let him live!

Lest he shame the soaring eagle Let no wings to man be giv’n, Bid him o’er the earth be ruler, Lord, but keep him out of heav’n!

Wisely said, the Lord made answer, Lo, your counsel fair I take! Yet, my Senate, one exception— One alone, I will to make.

One exception! for the poet, For the singer, shall have wings; He the gates of Heav’n shall enter, Highest of created things.

One I single from among ye, One to watch the ages long, Promptly to admit the poet When he hears his holy song.

 Journalism

Written today, and read today, And stale the news tomorrow!— Upon the sands I build... I play! I play, and weep in sorrow: “Ah God, dear God! to find cessation From this soul-crushing occupation! If but one year ere Thou dost call me Thither, Lord, at this blighting task let me not wither.”

 Pen and Shears

My tailor’s shears I scornèd then; I strove for something higher: To edit news—live by the pen— The pen that shall not tire!

The pen, that was my humble slave, Has now enslaved its master; And fast as flows its Midas-wave, My rebel tears flow faster.

The world I clad once, tailor-hired, Whilst I in tatters quakèd, Today, you see me well attired, Who lets the world go naked.

What human soul, how’er oppressed, Can feel my chained soul’s yearning! A monster woe lies in my breast, In 

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