Classic Poem

Blind as the song of birds,
Feeling its way into the heart, —
Or as a thought ere it hath words, —
As blind thou art: —

Or as a little stream
A dainty hand might guide apart,
Or Love — young Love's delicious dream, —
As blind thou art: —

Or as a slender bark,
Where summer's varying breezes start —
Or blossoms blowing in the dark, —
As blind thou art: —

Or as the Hope, Desire
Leads from the bosom's crowded mart,
Deluded Hope, that soon must tire, —
As blind thou art: —

The chrysalis that folds
The wings that shall in light depart,
Is not more blind than that which holds
The wings within thy heart.

For when thy soul was given
Unto the earth, a beauteous trust,
To guard its matchless glory, Heaven
Endungeoned it in dust.