David Given Schwarm

       He is a portion of the loveliness
       Which once he made more lovely: he doth bear
       His part, while the one Spirit’s plastic stress
       Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there
       All new successions to the forms they wear;
       Torturing th’ unwilling dross that checks its flight
       To its own likeness, as each mass may bear;
       And bursting in its beauty and its might
From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven’s light.