Classic Poem

1

When shades of night have come
And all my house is sleeping,
The silent peace of home
Its arms about them keeping,
And the only sound I hear
Is my children's measured breathing, —
Then my dream sees life appear
Toward a larger meaning wreathing;
Then their breathing seems a prayer
Through their voice of dream repeating,
While their consciousness is bare
In their God the Father meeting.
Dream, O Dream, thou art the sign
Of the life that knows no ending,
Of that stainless life divine
On this present life attending!

2

Look not upon me with such eyes, my son;
I would not have thee read my secret clear,
Nor would I so deceive my little one
That poison through thy fragile veins should sear.
Never, O never, may thy father's gloom
Obstruct thee from the joy and glow of day —
To speak of joy does voice presume? —
I do not wish thee joy,
For on this earth
To live in mirth
One must be saint or fool; —
And fool, — God save thee, boy! —
And saint — I know not of the school.

3

Go, stir the brazier coals, my child;
The fire is growing cold.
How brief today the sun has smiled!
To think the orb that you behold
One day shall cinder turn,
And God's great brow, the heavens, enfold
Its ashes like an urn.