Possibilities

WHERE are the Poets, unto whom belong

The Olympian heights; whose singing shafts were sent

Straight to the mark, and not from bows half bent,

But with the utmost tension of the thong?

Where are the stately argosies of song,

Whose rushing keels made music as they went

Sailing in search of some new continent,

With all sail set, and steady winds and strong?

Perhaps there lives some dreamy boy, untaught

In schools, some graduate of the field or street,

Who shall become a master of the art,

An admiral sailing the high seas of thought,

Fearless and first, and steering with his fleet

For lands not yet laid down in any chart.