Classic Poem

I.

" He that hath loved deserveth not to die. "
So thought I; and a sudden vision came
Of birds of splendour, crowned with crimson flame,
Wings touched with brilliance of the azure sky,
Breasts sapphire, throats of emerald, flying high
In the old forest-haunts without a name, —
The sweet green palaces that shone the same
Millions of centuries ere a man was nigh.

I saw them frolic through the leafy arches,
And a strange sense came over me that they,
Those two, that loved and laughed amid the larches,
And leaped with glittering feet from spray to spray,
Being in the secret, had my right to stay —
Yet stayed not — Death's indomitable marches.

II.

I could have wept to think that these sweet things
Had loved, not lived for ever; that the fire
That lit their eyes with the same soft desire
That stirs a poet's pulses as he sings,
And round the raiment of a sonnet clings,
And sweeps the fingers firm across the lyre, —
That such a flame should faint, subside, and tire,
When final sleep the ice-cold opiate brings.

It ought not so to be; those birds should live
For ever, had I in my power the voice
To bid them blossom onward, and rejoice
In endless spiral ascent — I would give
To every soul Love's song-creating kiss,
Eternity in which to utter this!