Classic Poem

A MID the mighty struggles of the day,
The burdened armies of huge toil enlocked,
In trade's grim battle-grounds ambition-rocked,
And busy marts of all the world's loud fray,
The truer moods of being flee away,
With all the gentler dreams of life that flocked
From love's hyperion fields, now cursed and mocked
By iron mouths and brazen throats that bray.

But in the hush of those diviner hours,
The meditative silences of night,
When Nature reasserts her holier powers,
And all false dreams and garish take their flight,
Those rarer moods of dream return to dwell
'Mid these white towers of truth invisible.