Classic Poem

The weary weeks come round again—
Come round again with frost and cold,
With falling leaves and dripping rain
And gleams of sun on autumn gold.

Through windows in the House of Time
I see great forces come and go,
I know the issues are sublime,
The trumpet-call to arms, I know.

But still my eyes go straining far,
Above the tumult and the noise,
To where, beyond the furthest star,
My darling plays among his toys.

I hear the laughter from his heart,
I see the sunshine in his eyes,
And then I waken with a start
And face once more the hollow skies.