Classic Poem

Sometimes 'tis with a touch of natural grief
That I behold the sere and yellow leaf
I'm fallen into—my summer scarce yet gone,
When th'year should put some solid bravery on:
And think that, had the skies been less unkind,
Nor sent an untimely frost and winter wind
Into my Autumn, it might well have shown
A verdure and luxuriance of its own,
Somewhat more answering to my vernal hour,
When, spite of many a blast and beating show'r,
Not much I lacked of Spring's enchanting dow'r.
 But soon some better thoughts I hope to win
I ask, what aspect wears the soul within?
In her do those, who clearest see, descry
The wasted form, wan cheek and sunken eye?
Or hath she put some Autumn bravery on
To recompense for Spring and Summer gone,
And, 'mid the cruel season's wasting stress,
More gained in pow'r than lost in loveliness?
To this my gentle friends shall answer make:
Their thoughts thereon I'll gladly take
For my soul's mirror, and will strive to be
Whate'er that flatt'ring glass reports of me.
This only dare I for myself to say,
That, let me lose or gain what charms I may,
Heav'n grants me more and more a heart t'admire
All beauty that can genial thoughts inspire.
And though this truth no genuine sage assails,
‘Less what we have than what we are avails’,
Herein to have is surely best by far—
To—gaze—to love—and care not what we are .