Classic Poem

Carpe Diem

Through all the blithe, expectant day,
His will was dull, his heart was gray.
From eastern flush to western flame
Without a strife or dream he came.

Beauty had called, and he was mute,
Yet myriad beauty would not cease,
Until he threw away his lute,
Because it chided peace.

About him on the tufted moss
Lay the spent bearers of the cross,
And reapers faint from harvest stress.
He envied them their weariness.

Though chants, intoned in fragrant air,
Rose from the woodland hermitage,
He had no sin to passion prayer,
Nor any thirst to assuage.

He puzzled all the seraphim
Sent to lament or laurel him,
For his shield undinted was and fair,
Yet the sunset would not dazzle there.English