Classic Poem

Her eyes are bright as stars that keep
Their watch in midnight skies;
Her voice as sweet as winds that sweep
The harps of Paradise.
And thou must quench the starry rays
That make the midnight fair,
Ere thou canst teach the heart to gaze
And not to worship there.

Learn, if thou wilt, from wisdom's store,
The stoic's boasted art;
And lose, like him, the only lore
That could have cheered thy heart.
Then die, for life hath naught of bloom
Around thy path to shine;
And death can bring no deeper gloom
To souls so dark as thine.