Classic Poem

Ah me, the subtle boundary between
What pleases and what pains! The difference
Between the word that thrills our every sense
With joy and one which hurts, although it mean
No hurt! It is the things that are unseen,
Invisible, not things of violence,
For which the mightiest are without defence.
On kine most fair to see one may grow lean
With hunger. Many a snowy bread is doled
Which is far harder than the hardest stones.
'Tis but a narrow line divides the zones
Where suns are warm from those where suns are cold.
'Twixt harmonies divine as chords can hold
And torturing discords, lie but semitones!