Classic Poem

Sweet honeysuckle, trailing where
The Summer walks in green,
Come, let us hold a colloquy
These brambled banks between.
This eve the rain
Of fruitless pain
Is sadly dropping from my eyes again.

'Tis hard to stand and feel the wind
Of cold neglect sweep by,
And see no twinkling star of hope
Gleam through the wintry sky.
Near forty years
Of toil and tears,
And yet small rainbow in the cloud appears.

'Tis hard to feel we walk among
The gifted and the good,
Breathing away our life in song,
And are not understood,
So few, how slow,
Our mission know;
And then the dwelling falls, and out we go.

Like a lone tree with tempests bent,
Under a frowning sky,
With sad sighs in the wilderness,
As the free winds pass by:
Even so I stand
Upon life's sand,
Sweeping my lyre-chords with a feeble hand.

Far spent is now life's dying day,
And twilight comes apace,
When I must lay my reed away,
And cease to run my race.
O Love Divine,
Great Life benign,
Remember me, and make me ever Thine.

Come, let me wipe those tears away,
And count my mercies o'er;
In daily numbers as the sands
Upon the ocean shore,
For friends and food,
And every good,
Help me, O Lord, to thank Thee as I should.

Dear honeysuckle, though the crowd
May little heed thy reign,
And turn their backs upon us here,
Conversing in the lane:
To me 'tis quite
A rich delight
To see thee trailing by the wild rose white.

I know this strain is all too sad,
And all too dull for thee,
But, woodbine dear, thou needest not
A breath of praise from me;
Sweeter than song,
The heights along,
In fragrance thou the green hedge brakes among.

And now, good bye. I feel relief
In pouring out my tears,
And holding silent colloquy
Apart from human ears.
A bard may stray
Till blinks the day,
None miss the poet on life's crowded way.