Classic Poem

The gifts of Youth are passing fair:
Through many a soft spring day
Their tender fragrance scents the air,
But — then they pass away!
— Hope, dying ere its blossom glows:
Faith in the false world's truth:
Faith in the swiftly fading rose: —
These are the gifts of Youth.

But fairer are the gifts Love brings;
Is there one humble cot,
One palace of a thousand kings
Where star-crowned Love is not?
— A rapture passing earthly speech:
Light stolen from heaven above:
The power, it seems, that heaven to reach: —
These are the gifts of Love.

But yet one other figure waits:
In sunshine or in shade,
With eyes that meet and conquer Fate's,
It tarries undismayed
— Life's harvests, bright on either hand:
Joy changeless, deep, sublime:
Peace filling all the golden land: —
These are the gifts of Time.