Classic Poem

I WATCH the many-colored crowd,
Passing me on the busy street,
And marvel at the faces proud,
Or sullen with low-browed defeat.

The blue skies smile upon the earth,
The winds are with the clouds at play,
And happiness had surely birth
With sundawn of the perfect day.

I dream of all the secrets hid
By placid brow or gloomy eye,
As in some rock-built pyramid
An unknown king or slave may lie.

I feel the beat of every heart,
And shed the tears tired eyes let fall,
And thrill to know myself a part
Of griefs that weary, hopes that thrall.

Oh, can it be that my weak soul
Is but an inlet of the sea,
And knows the outer sweep and roll
Of tides that forerun Destiny?

If this be dreaming, let me hold
The dear delusion to my breast;
Let me grow fearless, overbold,
And dare the noblest and the best.

Children of one sweet mother, heirs
Of all the hopes that thrill all hearts,
And owners of the mystic wares
That shine within the spirit's marts,

Masters of space and lords of time,
Wearers of robes that History wove
In far-off looms of every clime,
In snow-clad wood or olive-grove,

Each soul instinct with all and each,
We rise at last unto the height,
Foresaid in strange prophetic speech,
Whence every darkness melts in light!