Classic Poem

BY OTWAY CURRY .

Our spirit seeks a far-off clime
All beautiful and pure,
Where living light, and sinless time,
For evermore endure.

We spend our long and weary hours
In dreaming of that shore,
Where all those perished hopes of ours
Have swifdy gone before.

And do we yearn and strive in vain
To rend the enshrouding pall,
That round us in this life of pain
Lies like a dungeon wall?

Yes! for it clogs our halting thought,
And dims our feeble light; —
How hardly is our spirit taught
To shape its upward flight.

We strive with earthly imagings
To reach and understand
The wondrous and the fearful things
Of an Eternal Land.

We talk of amaranthine bowers
And living groves of palm,
Of starry crowns, and fadeless flowers,
And skies forever calm.

We talk of wings and raiment white,
And pillared thrones of gold,
And cities built with jewels bright,
Far in the Heavens, of old.

Are these things more than fancy's play?
Are they, in very deed,
The free soul's guerdon far away,
Its everlasting meed?

Or shall the spirit, in its flight
Beyond the stars sublime,
See nothing but the radiance white
Of never-ending time?

Shall things material change again,
And wholly be forgot?
And round us only God remain,
A universe of thought?

We know not well — we cannot know:
Our reason's glimmering light
Can nothing but the darkness show
Of our surrounding night.

But soon the doubt, and toil, and strife,
Of earth shall all be done,
And knowledge of our endless life
Be in a moment won.