Classic Poem

Ere quite the westward shadow fade
and the steep noon drink up the dew
that lingers on in the brief shade
and holds the enleaguer'd morning new,

I will sit down and watch the shine
steep all the halcyon height and steep
the cup of air in yellow wine
and earth in Sabbath, heaven-deep.

'Tis ten days now since I could dare
thus to rejoice in the calm sun
because somewhere — I know not where —
men fell, knowing injustice done.

In sooth, I had flung my peace away,
foolish, and changed for the dull woe
that numbs and the rage that can but slay
inwardly, that recurrent throe.

This little mirth of day may keep
the shining veil of azure drawn
o'er the outer night, where many a deep
shudders with the last horrible dawn.