Classic Poem

Thus may it be with me,
When at the dusk His call
Rings through the silences
Into my window tall:—

I may arise and go
Down where the purple bay
Breathes through the mist; cut loose;—
Put from the shore's cold gray;—

Slip mid the tang of spray
Where thwart the deeps on deeps,
Straight 'neath a moon of gold,
Golden a pathway creeps.

Then may sleep hush my heart,
Sweet as the croon of sea,
Soft as the mist is soft:—
Thus may it be with me