Classic Poem

TO X. X. X.

“Who could be satisfied alone with dreams,
Which life illumine with but borrowed gleams,
With mock procession leading hope astray?
To me must Truth her charms unveiled display.
Should with my dream my heaven disappear,
Should my free spirit, in its bold career
Towards unknown possibility's domain.
Be hampered by the present's galling chain,
'T will learn at least itself to bear a thrall;
And to the sacred sound of duty's call,
Or to the more imperious call of need,
Will know to render a more willing heed.
How can a man truth's gentle rule forswear,
And yet necessity's hard fortunes bear?”

Thus, my superior friend, I hear thee cry
From the safe niche which thine own qualms supply,
Leaving mere semblance rigidly alone.
 Struck by the serious import of thy tone,
Disperses in alarm th' immortal train,
The Muse is hushed, the dancing hours refrain,
The Goddess twins, now a dejected pair,
Ruefully twine the garlands in their hair,
Apollo snaps in twain his golden strings,
Hermes his magic wand in fragments flings,
From life's pale face falls dreamland's roseate bloom,
And lo, the world unveiled is but a tomb.
Fair Venus' child tears from before his eyes
Th' enchanted veil; his mother shrieking, flies
Her godlike son a mortal to behold,
His ardent youthful beauty sere and cold.
 And even thy sweet lip and kiss grow chill,
And petrifaction blurs their ancient thrill.