Classic Poem

I BUILT myself a castle,
So noble, grand, and fair;
I built myself a castle,
A castle—in the air.

The fancies of my twilights
That fade in sober truth,
The longing of my sorrow,
And the vision of my youth;

The plans of joyful futures;
So dear they used to seem;
The prayer that rose unbidden,
Half prayer—and half a dream;

The hopes that died unuttered
Within this heart of mine;—
For all these tender treasures
My castle was the shrine.

I looked at all the castles
That rise to grace the land,
But I never saw another
So stately or so grand.

And now you see it shattered,
My castle in the air;
It lies, a dreary ruin,
All desolate and bare.

I cannot build another,
I saw that one decay;
And strength and heart and courage
Died out the self-same day.

Yet still, beside that ruin,
With hopes as deep and fond,
I waited with an infinite longing,
Only—I looked beyond.