Thou wert the golden miracle of this age,
But no mysterious mystic miracle art,
For confident self-confidence doth raise
Its strength up through thy link-ed mind and heart,
And rational reason, wound within thy will,
Flows darting from thine eyes like wheels down hill.
All obstacles are cleared in your fine glance,
And nothing’s left to clueless fate or chance.
You see the thing you want, get set and go,
Then sing full proudly when your end does grow.
Oh, beauty such as yours is more than gold;
Its dauntless bearing and terrific fire
Would give this age  commandment to be bold
Could it but practice your sustained desire.