Classic Poem

WHEREIN HE ENVIES EARTH, HEAVEN AND THE GRAVE THEIR GOLDEN TREASURE

What grudge against the greedy earth I bear
That in his bleak and treacherous embrace
Retains the golden lustre of that face
Whose single glance could overwhelm despair!
What grudge against the saints with yellow hair
Who seemed so anxious from that mould of grace
To call the spirit to its proper place,
To share delights only the few may share!
What grudge against the angels that can weave
Their sister songs with hers, her soul receive
With melodies this heart has never heard!
What grudge against grim Death whose fatal light
Has quenched mine own and stands fixed in her sight
And stares and will not call me with a word!