Selections from the American Poets/Enoch
ENOCH.
I look'd to find a man who walk'd with God,Like the translated patriarch of old;Though gladden'd millions on his footstool trod,Yet none with him did such sweet converse hold;I heard the wind in low complaint go by,That none its melodies like him could hear;Day unto day spoke wisdom from on high,Yet none, like David, turn'd a willing ear;God walk'd alone unhonour'd through the earth;For him no heart built temple open stood;The soul, forgetful of her nobler birth,Had hewn him lofty shrines of stone and wood,And left unfinish'd and in ruins stillThe only temple he delights to fill.