Classic Poem

A long the dawn the little star went singing,
Low-poised and clear to see,
Shaking the light, like drops of May-dew, clinging
Her bright locks mistily.
Like any snowflake faded in the winging,
Her voice fell white to me.

‘O winds of Earth, that sorrow as ye fly
And take no rest,
Why go ye ever seeking, with that cry,
Some ruined nest?

‘Why weep, my world? Ah, strange and sad thou art,
Thou far-off one,
The saddest wanderer that hath warmed her heart
At yonder sun.

‘And I would give thee comfort, if I might,
That know not how;
Haply I see not far, for all the light
About my brow.

‘But who shall be thy sister, sorrowing?
Ah me! Not I,
That wander in a bond of joy and sing,
And know not why,—

‘Along the dawn, across unfathomed deep,
Unspent, unbowed,
Through shallows of the moonlight, thin as sleep,
Through fields of cloud.

‘Poor world, thou agèd world, I only know
That I am led
A songful journey: art not thou? Nay, so,
Be comforted.’

Along the dawn the little star went, winging
Glad ways across the wild,
Shaking the light that clung to her, enringing,—
An unremembering child.
Wide arms of morning gathered her, still singing:
And the Earth saw, and smiled.