Classic Poem

The work to which his hands were set
Went down with scorn and jeers;
His look grew deeper: “Even yet
We 'll build—beyond the years.”

The vision that his faith had wrought,
Touched by the blight that sears,
Fell shattered. But he said: “My thought
Will live—beyond the years.”

The dream that in his heart had rest
Wrought bitterness and tears.
His eyes grew tender: “Now, the quest;
Then joy—beyond the years.”

He smiled to know his strength was gone.
His eyes among the spheres
Saw strength and beauty at the dawn—
In dreams—beyond the years.

Then the Great Silence covered him
Too deep for dreams or tears.
Now the wind scatters at its whim
His dust along the years.