Never yet has poet sung a perfect song,
But his life was rooted like a tree's, among
Earth's great, feeding forces,--even as crag and mould,
Rhythms that stir the forest by firm fibres hold.
Harmonies ethereal haunt his topmost bough,
Upward from the mortal drawn, he knows not how:
The old, sacred story of celestial birth
Rising from terrestrial; heaven revealed through earth.
Note: the illustration is taken from Childhood Songs by Lucy Larcom published in 1874. A digitized copy is available at Google Books.)