Classic Poem

Shall I complain because the feast is o'er,
—And all the banquet lights have ceased to shine?
—For Joy that was, and is no longer mine;
For Love that came and went, and comes no more;
For Hopes and Dreams that left my open door;
—Shall I, who hold the Past in fee, repine?
—Nay! there are those who never quaffed Life's wine—
That were the unblest fate one might deplore.
To sit alone and dream, at set of sun,
—When all the world is vague with coming night—
—To hear old voices whisper, sweet and low,
And see dear faces steal back, one by one,
—And thrill anew to each long-past delight—
—Shall I complain, who still this Bliss may know?

Shall I complain because the feast is o'er,
—And all the banquet lights have ceased to shine?
—For Joy that was, and is no longer mine;
For Love that came and went, and comes no more;
For Hopes and Dreams that left my open door;
—Shall I, who hold the Past in fee, repine?
—Nay! there are those who never quaffed Life's wine—
That were the unblest fate one might deplore.
To sit alone and dream, at set of sun,
—When all the world is vague with coming night—
—To hear old voices whisper, sweet and low,
And see dear faces steal back, one by one,
—And thrill anew to each long-past delight—
—Shall I complain, who still this Bliss may know?