Classic Poem

Orchestral are thy beauty and thine art;
Sweet-linkéd symphonies to thee belong,
For every beat of thy melodious heart
Becomes immortal song.

Thy brow hymns wisdom, and thine eyes chant truth,
Thy hand lilts charity, thy body grace;
And like a choir of thrushes is the youth
That warbles on thy face,

As in a bower of roses. And the moon,
The stars, the sun, the winds, the lyric sea,
To thy high harmony their notes attune,
And sing along with thee.