GREAT spirits now on earth are sojourning;  
He of the cloud, the cataract, the lake,  
Who on Helvellyn’s summit, wide awake,  
Catches his freshness from Archangel’s wing;  
He of the rose, the violet, the spring,      
The social smile, the chain for Freedom’s sake:  
And lo!—whose steadfastness would never take  
A meaner sound than Raphael’s whispering.  
And other spirits there are standing apart  
Upon the forehead of the age to come;        
These, these will give the world another heart  
And other pulses. Hear ye not the hum  
Of mighty workings in the human mart?  
Listen awhile, ye nations, and be dumb.

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