Classic Poem

Whenever Good of Intellect comes in,
Then peace is with us, and a soft control
Of all harsh thinking; and but one desire
Fills every bosom, — to forget the din
Of outside things, and render up the soul
To friendship's banquet by an evening fire.
Then is the season in this world of sin
That brings new strength, and keepeth us heart-whole
Amid the changes that distress and tire;
And when from wisdom we have wanderers been,
So that a stupor on the spirit stole
From things unknown , with visions dark and dire,
In this high presence we restore ourselves
More than by all the volumes on our shelves.