Andrew Marvell

Spirit, that lookest from the starry fold
       Of truth’s white flock, next to thy Milton there
Accept my reverence though but feebly told.
       And oh! My heart from thy example rare
       Henceforth its being for worthiest ends would bear.
Thy deeds, though plain, were towering all and bold,
And like the stedfast columns that uphold
       Some awful temple, to thy duty were.
How much thy story has enlarged my ken
       Of real greatness! Of mere conquerors I
Read but with anger, or with shame; but when
       Of thee, uplifted into virtue’s sky,
I glory in my brotherhood with men,
       And feel how nobly all may live and die.