  Genius is only common dust, Unkindled by the Breath of Heaven;— Except God be their light and life, Vainly the richest gifts are given. Dark as a row of silver lamps, Fair, all, as fancy’s fine desire, And furnished, each, with rarest oil, But all untouched with fire. For noblest service, man’s first need Is inspiration from on high; The finite needs the Infinite, As flower and forest need the sky.
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