In some the genius is a thing apart, Its intellectual gain; Man's web of circumstance and fate They from their perch of self observe, Indifferent as the figures on a slate Are to the planet's sun-swung curve Teach me those words that strike a solid Were shaken from its serviceable mood root Within the ears of men; Ye chiefly, virile both to think and feel, Deep-chested Chapman and firm-footed Ben, For he was masculine from head to heel. Himself from out the recent dark I claim nery, Companionship, and open windowed glee: And seems to learn where he alone could teach. Ample and ruddy, the board's end he fills As he our fireside were, our light and heat, Centre where minds diverse and various skills Find their warm nook and stretch uphampered feet; I see the firm benignity of face, Wide-smiling champaign, without tameness sweet, The mass Teutonic toned to Gallic grace, The eyes whose sunshine runs before the lips While Holmes's rockets curve their long ellipse, In And burst in seeds of fire that burst again To drop in scintillating rain. 4. There too the face half-rustic, halfdivine, Self-poised, sagacious, freaked with humor fine, Of him who taught us not to mow and mope About our fancied selves, but seek our scope Nature's world and Man's, nor fade to hollow trope, Content with our New World and timely bold To challenge the o'ermastery of the Old; Listening with eyes averse I see him sit Pricked with the cider of the Judge's wit (Ripe-hearted homebrew, fresh and fresh again), While the wise nose's firm-built aquiline Curves sharper to restrain The merriment whose most unruly moods Pass not the dumb laugh learned in listening woods Of silence-shedding pine: Hard by is he whose art's consoling spell Hath given both worlds a whiff of asphodel, His look still vernal 'mid the wintry ring |