Classic Poem

There is much tiptoe moving to and fro
In darkened chambers where the blinds are tight,
And voices whisper in the ghostly light,
And fear steals trembling in a shroud of woe,
Because an old man from his home must go:
For him the home is fading out of sight,
He will be gone before the fall of night,
So all is closed and hushed, the light made low.
Nay, but fling back the blinds, let the sun shine!
So may this voyager lift his eyes and hail
The blue alluring wild unending west;
For neither Jason cleaving the lone brine
Toward Colchis, nor Columbus under sail,
Adventured on so high, so bold a quest.