Classic Poem

Strike, Life, a happy hour, and let me live
— But in that grace!
I shall have gathered all the world can give,
— Unending Time and Space!

Bring light and air — the thin and shining air
— Of the North land,
The light that falls on tower and garden there,
— Close to the gold sea-sand.

Bring flowers, the latest colours of the earth,
— Ere nun-like frost
Lay her hard hand upon this rainbow mirth,
— With twinkling emerald crossed.

The white star of the traveller's joy, the deep
— Empurpled rays that hide the smoky stone,
The dahlia rooted in Egyptian sleep,
— The last frail rose alone.

Let music whisper from a casement set
— By them of old,
Where the light smell of lavender may yet
— Rise from the soft loose mould.

Then shall I know, with eyes and ears awake,
— Not in bright gleams,
The joy my Heavenly Father joys to make
— For men who grieve, in dreams!