Classic Poem

Lend your flame to the spirit, glowing gloom;

Sighing the head rises into midnight,

At the greening spring hill; where before

A gentle lamb bled, endured the deepest

Pain; but the dark one follows the shadow

Of evil, or he lifts the moist wings

To the golden disk of the sun and a sound of bells

Convulses his pain-torn breast,

Wild hope; the sinisterness of flaming fall.