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The Classicist

Authors: Ben <benk@tilde.team>

Dated: 2021-04-19

The Classicist
by Ivy Kellerman

My face is turned forever toward the past,
  Where mute memorials beckon ghost-like on,
I ponder over tongues that no man speaks,
  On art and beauty long since dead and gone.

I know what men have said and thought and done
  Long ere the Viking king his sails unfurled,
I watch the slow development of man
  Across the farthest shadows of the world.

The blind old Chian's wondrous songs are mine,
  The dazzling glory of the Theban bard,
The master-works of dramatists sublime,
  And deathless histories of deeds ill-starred.

The fiery argument of Rome's great mind,
  And sad, sweet music from its golden age,
With comedy that ever echoes forth
  The foreign soul that fell beneath its rage.

The wise and thoughtful songs of that old East,
  Its lyric passion of a younger day,
The teachings of the wise Englightened One,
  And all the curious tales that round him play.

Therefore I labor over ancient tones
  That man has studied full two thousand years,
And sift the golden dust from day to day
  To glean again its thoughts and hopes and fears.

My life is spent o'er petty things and trite,
  In weary drudgery on word and line,
Yet these poor deeds may sometime point the way
  To wise unfolding of a truth divine!

Note: The first line of the second-to-last stanza contains what looks like a typo, and "tones" might rather have been "tomes". For the sake of accuracy I refrained from changing it, as it's possible that it was intentional.

Reference:

https://www.jstor.org/stable/42917047