Classic Poem

An odorous shade lingers the fair day's ghost,
And the frail moon now by no wind is tost,
And shadow-laden scents of tree and grass
Build up again a world our eyes have lost.

Now all the wood is but a murmured light
Where leaf on leaf falls softly from the height;
The hidden freshness of the river seems
A breath that mingles with the breath of night.

And time and shade and silence seem to say,
Close now your eyes nor fear to die with day;
For if the daylight win to earth again,
Will not its beauty also find a way?

And flower and stream and forest, will they not
Bring back to-morrow, as to-day they brought,
This shadow-hidden scent — this odorous shade?
Yea, and with more abiding memories fraught.