Classic Poem

The morn was bright, and prophesied a day
That was fulfilled — that passed in facile peace
To halt at eve, and fade with slow decrease
Through crimson sunset, gold, and twilight gray
Until the night that leadeth home the stray
Fell darkly down and closed the little lease
Allowed our labour to begin and cease —
The labour that is love, and loves to pray.
Now do the starbeams smile upon the few
Who prayed and loved, and laboured all the hours
Their fields are moistened with a fresher dew,
Methinks, the while the wakeful wanton cowers
Unfavoured. But the truth returns anew —
That just and unjust share both shine and showers.