Classic Poem

On me the sun has set, the lowlands lie
Dim in the purple folds of early night;
But thou, gray cruiser of the chartless sky!
Dost steer thy slow, undeviating flight
Full in the sun's unclouded glare.
The world is bright around thee, thy strong breast
Parts flashing streams of keen, ethereal fire;
Aslant the ardent splendors of the West,
On still, curved vans thou mountest ever higher,
Through scintillating zones of air.

From what far quest through the white gates of Morn,
Beyond the peopled East, returnest thou?
Toward what sheer, solitary mountain bourn
In the primeval wild, art voyaging now?
Thou haunter of unbarriered space!
I watch thee soaring up the steeps of light,
Half doubting thou art aught of mortal birth,
Foredoomed to hunger, weariness and blight
And wintry change of this controlling earth,
Like our slow-footed, wingless race.

Aloof in lone, airial equipoise,
The roar of inextinguishable strife
Melts round thee like a faint, unmeaning voice,
And to thy sight the myriad maze of life
Is but a blurred, phantasmal scene.
Away, strong soul! thou leavest Time and Death,
Dishevelled Grief and hollow-chested Care
To crawl the dim, abysmal world beneath,
Whilst thou in deeps of golden dusk, dost fare
Far through the measureless serene.