Classic Poem

A sombre fiend, a spirit banished,
Was flying o'er this world of sin;
While thoughts of better days, now vanished,
Upon his brain were crowding in—
Those days, when in the home of light
Midst cherubim he too was bright.
The time was when the comet fleeting,
Its soft caressing smile of greeting
To interchange with him was proud;
When, through the never-ending cloud,
He followed curiously the trace
Of where the caravans had moved
Of stars, whose paths were lost in space,—
When he believed and when he loved.
A happy first-born of creation,
He knew no thought of fear or doubt:
Existence then was his, without
The weight of ages of damnation——
And much and much,—but no, not all,
Had he the strength that dared recall.