Classic Poem

I.

I look forward fearful,
I look backward tearful,
For dark seems the future — nor proffers one joy;
Fair pleasures are flying,
And fond fancies dying,
That lightened or gladdened my path when a boy.

II.

For all that was dearest,
When kindest and nearest,
And when best approved, has been called for by fate;
The coldest of any,
The valueless many,
Alone live in hope, and are proudly elate.

III.

The joy-dreams are banished,
The warm hopes evanished,
That lured me as Iris attracts the gay child;
The radiance that caught me
Too speedily taught me
By what fading colours my eyes were beguiled.

IV.

Now dreary and drooping,
And wan and unhoping,
I creep through Life's remnant of lingering days,
With nought to enlighten,
Or soften, or brighten,
The far spreading gloom that my dim eye surveys.

V.

The tree boyhood planted,
And young feeling haunted,
Wild storms, and not years, have made branchless and broken:
Of all its old glory
To tell the sad story,
The crushed trunk remains — a too eloquent token!

VI.

As onward we falter
All Life's prospects alter,
But the change the most bitter and clinging —
Is when the heart's feelings,
And gentlest revealings,
Shrink beneath the world's merciless stinging.

VII.

Then loveless we wander,
And joylessly ponder,
The gloom of the future — the waste of the pas —
Nor grasp at the present,
Though seemingly pleasant,
Lest that too should meet disappointment's stern blast!

VIII.

Then Love's for the dreamer,
And Hope's for the schemer,
The best chances of Life are still for the brave;
But all my prayers rise for,
And all my heart sighs for,
Is the silence, the solace, the peace of the grave!