Classic Poem

Children of my heart and brain,
Born of pleasure and of pain,
Some with aspect fair and bright
As the sweet May-morning light,
Some as sombre, sad and sober
As the yellow-haired October,
Some with step as light and airy
As the tread of fay of fairy—
Hoping, fearing, smiling, sighing
Musing, singing, laughing, crying,
Go your way;
Henceforth on yourselves relying,
Come what may.

Where the fairest flowers are born
In the rosy light of morn;
Where the shadows sleep at noon
In the lap of genial June;
Where the frolic cascade falls,
Down the mountain's rugged walls,
Startling with its gleeful laughter
All the sweet winds singing after,
Through the shadow and the gleaming,
We have wandered, fondly dreaming.
Go your way;
Those bright hours are dead in seeming;
Those bright hours are dead in seeming
Well-a-day!

Little, simple things are ye,
Ne ertheless, ye were to me
Messengers from heaven above.
Teaching patience, peace and love;
Making every burden lighter,
Every pathway fairer, brighter;
Bathing all the past with tender,
Soft, uncertain, shadowy splendor,
Spanning common life's expanses
With bewitching dreams and fancies.
Go your way;
Ye were born of glorious trances,
Come what may.

Go; the stream of Time is wide;
Take your chances on its tide;
Some to buffet winds and waves,
Some to sink to Lethean graves,
Some to live, perchance, and cheer
A despairing voyager,
Sow a seed of truth and beauty,
Stir a sluggish pulse to duty,
Give some poor heart, sick with sorrow,
Promise of a brighter morrow.
Go your way;
Such a dream my hope would borrow,
Come what may.