Classic Poem

My soul soars up the atmosphere
And sings aloud where God can hear,
And all my being leans intent
To mark His smiling wonderment.
O gracious dream, and gracious time,
And gracious theme, and gracious rime—
When buds of spring begin to blow
In blossoms that we used to know
And lure us back along the ways
Of time's all-golden yesterdays!