Classic Poem

FOR there are two heavens, sweet,
Both made of love, — one, inconceivable
Ev'n by the other, so divine it is;
The other, far on this side of the stars,
By men called home , when some blest pair are met
As we are now: sometimes in happy talk,
Sometimes in silence (also a sort of talk,
Where friends are matched) each at its gentle task
Of book, or household need, or meditation,
By summer-moon, or curtained fire in frost:
And by degrees there come, — not always come,
Yet mostly, — other, smaller inmates there,
Cherubic-faced, yet growing like those two,
Their pride and playmates, not without meek fear,
Since God sometimes to his own cherubim
Takes those sweet cheeks of earth. And so 'twixt joy
And love, and tears, and whatsoever pain
Man fitly shares with man, these two grow old:
And if indeed blest thoroughly, they die
In the same spot, and nigh the same good hour,
And setting suns look heavenly on their grave —