Classic Poem

WRIT vast Creation o'er
By heavenly hand behold the precept true;
Lock not the abounding store
With niggard heart and poor;
Give, that it may be given unto you.

The rich sun not in vain
Feeds on his own great heart of living light:
The planets' shining train
By his their state sustain,
And by his fire's decrease the moon burns bright.

The black cloud tempest-sped,
Showering its silver on the barren sea,
Gives life unto the dead
When drops so wildly shed
Come back in happy rain to comfort flower and tree.

All energy and rest,
All interchange of shadow or of shine,
Are blended and are blest
In mutual interest.
Should not the lot of all things else be mine?

Sunlike my spirit burns,
Lavish of light for mortal need amassed;
It leaves me, nor returns,
No stars in golden urns
Gather the brightness that from me hath past.

For Penury and Pain
Medicine I know, and Sorrow I can cheer;
But Sympathy's sweet rain
Visiteth not again
The source it fled, and my own heart is sere.

Sore though the lip might chide,
One little kiss of Love had made it dumb.
I deemed we walked allied;
I called him to my side;
Gone was he not, for he had never come.

Tears streaming inwardly,
Thoughts misbegot and perishing alone: —
Can like abortion be
By Nature's alchemy
Wrought to a solace for the souls unknown?

Hath not Mind substance? rare,
But true as those twin oceans Space reveals,
Bright water and soft air?
Whereof, touched anywhere,
The whole mass thrills, and every atom feels.

Cast then, of man unheard,
Into that sea of soul thy secret sigh:
Billow by billow stirred
Swells with the tongueless word,
And the far deeps have knowledge and reply.

If such be Being's bent,
I, wronged in nought, no more will idly rue,
Nor more, my discontent
Soothing with sweet lament,
Linger beside my grief, as now I do.