Classic Poem

O Listen, listen, while I plead with you!
The day is softly resting from its care;
The evening wind is breathing out a prayer:
The cloudy forms of spirits crowd the blue.

Thin spirit-forms that let the glory through,
With outstretched hands are swimming from the west;
One wears the crescent moon upon his crest,
And all are dropping blessings down on you.

They drop as gently as the dropping dew:
Dear love, dear love, for all that I would say,
There is no fitter place, no fairer day;
O listen, listen, while I plead with you!