Classic Poem

Now shall your beauty never fade,
For it was budding when you passed
From out this glare into the shade
Of fairer gardens unforecast,
Where, by the dreaded gardener's spade,
Beauty, transplanted once, will ever last.

Now never shall your glorious breast
Wither, your deft hands lose their art,
Nor those proud shoulders be oppressed
By failing breath or fluttering heart,
Nor, from the cheek by dawn possessed,
The subtle extasy of hue depart.

For ever shall you be your best; —
Nay, far more luminously shine
Than when our comradeship was blessed
By what on earth seemed most divine,
Before your body passed to rest
With what I then supposed this heart of mine.

Now shall your bud of beauty blow
Far lovelier than I knew before
When, such a little time ago,
I looked upon your face, and swore
That Helen's never moved men so
When her white, magic hands enkindled war.

As you sweep on from power to power
Shall every earthward thought you think
Irradiate my lonely hour
Until I taste the golden drink
Of Life, and see the full-blown flower
Whose opening bud was mine beyond the brink.