Classic Poem

What think you were the joys of that freed being
When first there broke upon her new-oped vision,
With purple clouds about them dimly fleeing,
The far-off turrets of her home elysian?

When first she heard, distrait with bliss and wonder,
The music of the spheres about her ringing,
Afar and near their golden hum and thunder,
And all the morning stars together singing?

How many years she dwelt in prison, waiting!
No ray of sun relieved the darkness bitter,
And no stray bird around her window grating
Flew now and then with friendly song and twitter.

Her prison was like ours — a little dimmer:
We stumble, grope and listen; all our peering
Is by chance rays and through a sifting glimmer;
Confused and wrong is our most perfect hearing.

O, Jailer Death! thy terrors have been sounded
Long in men's hearts and much in song and story;
Yet, since we are by light and love surrounded,
We dread thee not. Let in the waiting glory!