Classic Poem

It was when, just about to set,
A sadness held the sinking sun.
The moon, a mere white mist as yet,
Hover'd faint in the fervid blue:
The Ave-Mary chime was done;
The grey-gown'd priest was passèd through
The chapel porch of grassy stone;
And from the bell-tower lean'd the ringers;
And in the chancel paused the singers,
With lingering looks, and claspèd fingers:
And the day reluctantly turn'd to his rest,
Like some untold life, that leaves exprest
But the half of its hungering love ere it close:
So he went sadly toward his repose
Deep in the heart of the slumbrous waves
Kindled far off in the desolate west.
And the breeze sprang up in the cool sea-caves.
The castle stood with his courts in shade,
And all his toothèd towers imprest
On the sorrowful light that sunset made—
Such a light as sleeps shut up in the breast
Of some pining crimson-hearted rose,
Which, as you gaze at it, grows and grows
And all the warm leaves overflows;
Leaving its sweet source still to be guess'd.