Ultra Modern

How star - like are ye Bards of Yore! Alone,
You heard the silent music of the spheres,
And gave it living voice. Through smiles and tears,
Courting all mortals in their daily drone,
The thought, The magic touch, The manly tone
With which you season d human hopes and fears
Were closely allied, naught to us appears,
In Truth, but interwoven with our own.
Alas! No more for us that inward bliss
Whose warmth is felt not seen, that inner glow
Akin to love; Nor dare we like them, even
Discern a right The lovely things we miss
An artlessness which only Art can know
No more that spark, giving a glimpse of heaven