Classic Poem

At Gotha stands a castle fair, replete with treasure store,
Beneath whose crystal casements there lies thousand-fold the more,
For morning-white and evening-red and clear lamps of the night
Over a hundred valleys shed their beauty-searching light.

Cut through the tall and massive wall, three hundred three-score-five,
These crystal casements bower and hall with sunshine make alive;
And when the pleasant day is done, out through the quiet dark
They send their own lights every one to some remembered mark.

I know a loftier castle still; above yet fairer land
Its towers out-top the highest hill, and widest plains command;
'Twas built in some forgotten time by one both good and wise,
And all who live the stair may climb beneath the open skies.

Of casement windows, strange to tell, these castle towers have just
Three hundred sixty-five, as well, to keep from stain and dust;
And when I 've looked from every one and seen all I can see,
From each a little light shall run, and make a memory!