Classic Poem

Melchior had coat and shoes of red,
And a pure alb sewn with gold thread;
Beneath a tire of Syrian mode
Streamed the soft storm of hair that snowed
From cheek and chin unshorn;
Down to the ground his saffron pall
Fell as warm sunbeams earthward fall,
And he, sun-like, seemed king of all,
Betwixt the night and morn.

Red-robed, red-sandalled, golden-clad,
Came Caspar, boardless as a lad:
Through his fair hair's divided stream
His red cheeks glowed as poppies gleam
Through sheaves of yellow corn.
Love's life in him was scarce fulfilled,
Like as, when daybreak shadows yield,
Night's iron lids lie half unsealed
In colors of the morn.

Bronzed Balthasar, with beard thick-fed,
Came last, in tunic royal red
And broidered alb and yellow shoon.
With him life's rose had touched its noon,
And died and left the thorn, —
Which proved by its sharp, thrilling heat
That larger life is less complete
Till the heart's bitter grows to sweet,
As night melts into morn.