Classic Poem

Under the porch, along the gloomy street,
Multitudes pressing,
Stare of dull eyes, and pause of idle feet,
Hearts vaguely blessing:
Garden and square from chestnut and from thorn
Snow-blossoms shedding,
Sultry and gray the sunless London morn
Welcomes the wedding.
Here in the church, the blank uncomely aisle
Whispers with greetings,
Half-uttered jest and veiled reproving smile,
Languorous meetings;
High above all, the organ rises loud
Swelling in thunder,
Silent at last, the gay unthinking crowd
Opens asunder.
See how she comes, “the toast of all the town,”
Daintily slender,
Little head high, but eyes bent shyly down,
Trustful and tender:
Soft-flowing lace and shimmering of pearl
Wears she divinely,
Soft too her train's inimitable swirl,
Broidered so finely
See where he waits, the lover for his own,
Royally daring,
Once he be hers, a Cæsar's lofty throne
Not worth the sharing:
They two alone, and nearer none shall stand,
Father nor mother,
They two alone are plighting hand to hand,
Either to other.

“Ah, but the key they miserably miss,
Hearts never mated;
Surely to earn the day that gives us this,
Time was created?
Sundered, the years fled empty as a dream,
Aims were the vainest;
Here is the purpose and the hour supreme,
Life's meaning plainest.”

Here let the World's interminable din
Hush for a breathing,
Here let the cauldron of the city's sin
Rest from its seething:
Rest, O sad players, from your dreary parts,
Sated and scornful;
Rest for a moment, disappointed hearts,
Tearlessly mournful.
Long summers since,—invulnerable Man,
Coldly regretful,—

Mind you of how the old romance began,
Fevered and fretful?
Wavering hopes, and chill unreasoned fears,
Daring, and knowing:—
Say, is her grave quite hidden by the years,
Weeds overgrowing?
You, fairest Dame,—a web of petty schemes
Jealously twining,—
Once on a time across your blameless dreams
Dawn-rays were shining:
Eyes to meet yours unalterably true,
Lips to adore you;
Spare, if you can, a prayer for the Two
Kneeling before you.

Far down the years, when eyes are growing dim,
Loveliness waning,
What from to-day shall then for her, for him,
Yet be remaining?
Sullen reproach, and querulous regret,
Sorrow and scorning?—
Rather—leal hearts, feet resolutely set
Straight for the morning.
Close we the book, and bravely thrust aside
Life's hidden pages;
Thus may they stand, the Bridegroom and the Bride,
One through the ages.