Classic Poem

Lawrence, with quiet face, scarce lit
With meek maliciousness of wit
Legal and formal: praise the Lord
For one man true as a steel sword.

Frances, with brave brown eyes that go
As straight and sudden as a blow.
Courageous with the generous blood
And wisdom of her womanhood.

Bertram a stately thing to see
Wearing the shape of chivalry
Mighty as some old prince of fray
And simple as a child at play.

Edmund, with visage sad and sane
Yet in the fulness of the brain
A twist, like some great oak of worth
With the old humour of the Earth.

Lizzie, with bright and tangled fence.
And dazzling inconsequence
And all the laughing chords along
A sadness like an Irish song.

Lucian, a god of Eastern lands
Whirling with many heads and hands.
Yet one heart only—let the wise
Guess in what quiet place it lies.

Annie, with still eyes full of Truth
Above my childhood and my youth
Like Nature's face her face is young
Who was before me: yet is young.

And Waldo, tumbled in the press
Who in divine fastidiousness
Chose stars, and stood from out the mire
Alone with his own soul's desire.

Mildred, one face for everyone
Whom God made happier than the sun
Who flashed and fluttered, singing by,
The ribbons of life's bravery.

Vernède: up curled in the dark ease
Of oriental mysteries—
And weaving, for a dreamy sport
His twisted arabesques of thought.

Leila, who carried brave and light
The thoughtful load of rule and right
And let not works nor all things wise
Make dark the laughter of her eyes.