Shakespeare

Like to a glass of magic old
His soul each passing image caught;
His mind an ocean that could hold
The river of each human thought.

My dimmer eyes meet far-off rays
His all immortal vision saw;
That inner world — the Dawn of days —
Breaks through the clouds earth’s vapors draw.

And ever, while I read, there seems
A world of real life around;
And friends of old float through the dreams
Of peopled air and fairy ground.

Great nature’s self so in him dwelt,
With all her wealth of songs and springs,
That never throb of his is felt,
But she is vocal while he sings.