Classic Poem

Rather obscure! a failing sure
To follow life's observation!
Survey it all, and your thoughts shall fall
In the strangest concatenation.

At dawn a glimpse of the shining fields,
At even the day's disaster—
And the verdure fails and the sunlight yields
To the tempest that tramples faster.

Your thoughts are a wreath of the rosiest girls!
Your lyrics their rippling laughter!
Radiant! never a shrouded tear,
Nor a moan, nor a silence after.

Shine on! and suffer his style grow dim—
“Quaint,” as you kindly rank it,
Who sings to the shadows that sit with him
In pearls at his vesper banquet.

Nor a skeleton feast, in the dreamy mist,
Where he gathers his broken splendor,
There is bread, I wis, and wine to kiss
To memories shy and tender.

A little dark! let the smile shine through
His tears by the solemn river;
Like the light that summons a drop of dew
To shine with the stars forever.