PRAISER of Milton! worthy of his praise!
How shall I name thee? art thou yet unnamed?
While verses flourish hanging overhead
In looser tendrils than stern husbandry
May well approve, on thee shall none descend?
At Milton’s hallowed name thy hymn august
Sounds as the largest bell from minster-tower.
I ponder; and in time may dare to praise;
Milton had done it; Milton would have graspt
Thy hand amid his darkness, and with more
Impatient pertinacity because
He heard the voice and could not see the face.