A vision as of crowded city streets, 
 With human life in endless overflow; 
 Thunder of thoroughfares; trumpets that blow 
 To battle; clamor, in obscure retreats, 
 Of sailors landed from their anchored fleets; 
 Tolling of bells in turrets, and below 
 Voices of children, and bright flowers that throw 
 O'er garden-walls their intermingled sweets! 
 This vision comes to me when I unfold 
 The volume of the Poet paramount, 
 Whom all the Muses loved, not one alone; -- 
 Into his hands they put the lyre of gold, 
 And, crowned with sacred laurel at their fount, 
 Placed him as Musagetes on their throne.