Classic Poem

I shed no tear upon thy early grave,
For thy pure soul has found deliverance now,
And from the eminence that Nature gave
Looks down upon a world that sought to bow,
With a low burden of consuming cares,
Thy spirit to the reach of theirs.
Thou wert not fashioned for the menial throng,
Who plod with easy step the common way,
But thy delight was in the sons of song,
And, sooth, to play
On the light strings of some unearthly lyre
Was all thy office, and thy sole desire.

Thy spirit could not brook the common lot.
Not that it wore the plume and crest of pride,
For the meek tenant of a shepherd's cot
Went as a loved companion by thy side;
But all thy thoughts were lent,
With a perpetual bent,
To meditations of an unknown sphere,
And therefore life below
Seemed all too lag and slow,
And every look was cold that met thee here;
So thou didst keep thy melancholy way,
With earnest longing for a brighter day.

And it has come, — and now a loftier air
Encompasses about thy liberal soul:
The welcome winds that blow around thee bear
Sounds that from fitly-chiming planets roll,
And now thy all-attentive spirit hears
The harmony of spheres;
Thy path is now through amaranth beds, and lines
Of laurel, such as crown the chosen few,
Whose tuneful company in glory shines
Bathed with large offerings of Castalian dew,
That from a golden overshadowing cloud
In full effusion flows,
And, while their harps and voices echo loud,
Breathes round the living perfume of the rose.

And now, admitted to their willing train,
Thou standest high upon the starry floor,
And thou shalt walk on that cerulean plain
Inlaid with burning gems and sparkling ore:
Thou shalt behold no more
The clouds that overshade our darker day,
For they have rolled away.
Like a bright jewel in a coronet,
Or, fitter simile, a rolling star,
Imperial Jove in his eternal car,
In the full front of Heaven's armada set,
That ride the airy sea,
Spreading without a limit or a shore,
And, stead of rush and roar,
Moving to a most gentle harmony, —
Thus bright, and thus upheld in port and place,
Thou shalt maintain thy station evermore,
And, with such lofty grace
As Theron erst the palmy garland wore,
Bear on thy youthful brow the immortal bay,
And so thy fame shall never pass away.

Then why should we with long and vain lament
Weep o'er thy early fate, as if it were
Inflicted on thee with no good intent,
But dropped unkindly from the infected air?
Rather be glad, for 't is the blessed care
Of some benevolent power,
Whose wont it is with open hand to shower
His liberal gifts, that thou so soon hast given
Thy spirit to the full embrace of Heaven.