Classic Poem

He came with the wind of dawn, when rose-red clouds were flying;
In the glory of his coming the old world drifted dim.
He went when the evening star outwatched day's quiet dying;
Its path upon the sea made a white straight road for him.

Did he dream a wistful dream in some radiant place supernal?
Did he hear the human call, follow and lose his way?
Has the touch of earth on the child made strange to him things eternal?
Is he heir to sorrow and love, being mortal for one swift day?