Classic Poem

'Till old things vanish, and till new ones rise,
'Till in our childhood's home we look in vain
For the kind greeting of those well-known eyes
Which did of our's the firstling glances chain;
'Till we have quitted childhood's sheltered plain,
And gained the summit of maturity,
'Till that horizon fate did first ordain
To bound our sight, doth sink away, and die,
And new ones, at each stage, rise to our mental eye;