Classic Poem

Swept, clean, and still, across the polished floor
— From some unshuttered casement, hid from sight,
— The level sunshine slants, its greater light
Quenching the little lamp which pallid, poor,
Flickering, unreplenished, at the door
— Has striven against darkness the long night.
— Dawn fills the room, and penetrating, bright,
The silent sunbeams through the window pour.
— And she lies sleeping, ignorant of Fate,
— Enmeshed in listless dreams, her soul not yet
Ripened to bear the purport of this day.
— The morning breeze scarce stirs the coverlet,
— A shadow falls across the sunlight; wait!
A lark is singing as he flies away.