Poems (Hardy)/With the tongues of men and angels
WITH THE TONGUES OF MENAND ANGELS
ONE sweep of Homer's purple paints the sea Gurgling 'mid Agea's islanded confines; One touch of Shakespeare's pen incarnadinesThe waters of the world with tragedy.Milton's bare word on Vallombrosa's tree Makes thick the leaves. And thought the more resigns Itself to such imaginings since that it pinesAnd beats against its cage for language freeAs theirs to speak out plain its life in, Star And sun commend the prayer for words of light: Perfection's rounded worlds far swinging onWithin their shining orbits draw from tar The soul's desire up to a glittering height It had not tried had no foot further gone.