Classic Poem

" THE loveliness has passed away! " they cry;
" Romance lies dead beside her broken lyre;
Beauty has vanished from the earth and sky,
The dawn is cold, the noon has lost its fire. "
But to the blind what are the hues of Spring?
And to the deaf what songs does Summer sing?

Nothing has passed away that once was fair;
The day wanes through the golden gates of even;
The leaves have voices in the quiet air;
The stars burn bright upon the brow of heaven;
The woods are loud with notes as rich and clear
As ever charmed Arcadian shepherd's ear.

No, Beauty is not lost; and those who will
May find her sleeping in a wayside flower,
Or throned upon some solitary hill,
Robed in the symbols of her ancient power.
But reverent pilgrims throng her shrines no more;
Her faithless priesthood have forgoTher lore.

Our lines are cast upon a barren time;
Cold doubt congeals the fervid heart of youth;
The greed of gain and power demeans our prime;
And love of self usurps the love of truth.
Faint are the sounds of song; the poet's lay
Is still the music of his race and day.

But 'neath December's frozen meadows lie
The folded splendors of the unborn May.
The germ of beauty that can never die
May slumber while the cold years lapse away;
But, soon or late, within the common heart,
Shall wake to purer faith and loftier art.