Classic Poem

I tremble to think that soon
Darkness shall close my sight,
And all that under the sun
I saw, and by moonlight:
Beautiful shadows and forms,
Colours, and, over the hill,
Clouds, like visible storms
At peace when the air is still;
The nameless, wonderful hues
That torture the eyes with joy
When the sea has a faint primrose,
On its blue and silver alloy —
All to be left untold,
The white and ethereal blue
That carries the chaos of gold
Dreams that I dreamt of you!
But these the years must spare,
Too transient far for time:
There is no age for the air,
Light is not of our clime.
But I whom the nets of the years
Surely at last shall enmesh
Before I can save in verse
The timeless traits of the flesh,
Shall have no peace till the cloud
Of thought takes definite shape,
And bodies you forth unbowed,
Tall, on a bare landscape,
Where earth the stone upthrusts —
Holding your exquisite frock
Against the morning gusts,
And light is on half the rock.