Classic Poem

In August evening west
No sign of world unrest.
Goldening with gentle glow
The crowns of crowded trees,
Blue days decline and go
Bourdoned by bumble bees:

In twilight windowed room
Grave music of the mind
Companions me, for whom
Lost youth shouts far behind.
Not now life's overlord,
Only as viol to string
Vibrant, I would accord
With time's importuning.

Stillness, man's final friend,
Absolve this turmoiled thought
Of ills I cannot mend
That so my brain be brought
An unimpassioned pride
Where perfidies prevail,
And—old beliefs belied—
Philosophy to fail.