Classic Poem

The young moon, the evening star and night,
And the wandering wash of the world-circling tide,
And the level sands, long and low and wide,
Fringed by shadowy palms —
These are the things the heart will never forget,
That leave no whisper of sadness or regret,
That make the soul glad to be caught in the net
Of the starry Universe.
For who can behold the young moon sink to bed
On silvery clouds, or hear each billowy verse
Of the tide chant there is neither better or worse
When men take infinity for their nurse —
Who can hear it and moan?
None! for however worn and sad and lone
We wander the beaches of earth,
No moon has ever set or dawn had birth
But men have found in days and nights a worth
Transcending misery;
And we are sure that beauty is one with health
When it is touched with the Eternal's wealth
Of wonder and peace.
Therefore is beauty the soul's true anodyne
For all the ills that never should have been.