Classic Poem

Youth ! was ever youth like hers?
What dreams awake! what memory stirs
Within us, at her name, to think
That once we stood beside the brink
Of that divine, translucent river,
Where now the sands are dry for ever.

Youth! was ever youth like hers?
Sure, the shining ministers,
Jewel-pinioned, who await
Ransomed souls at heaven's gate
And greet them with a holy kiss,
Looked like this, smiled like this.

Was ever heart but must rejoice
At the ripple of her voice?
Was ever eye but danced with glee
Responsive to her smile, to see
Joy like a crystal fountain rise
Sparkling and bubbling in her eyes?

Her youth was lovely: but her age
Was nearer to her heritage.
We saw the dust upon the palm,
Peace after battle and the calm
War-earned, And on her marble face
The quiet of a holy place.