Addressed to the Same

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 stedfastness 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?—————
  Listen awhile ye nations, and be dumb.