Classic Poem

Like one pale, flitting, lonely gleam
Of sunshine on a winter's day,
There came a thought upon my dream,
I know not whence, but fondly deem
It came from far away.

Those sweet, sweet snatches of delight
That visit our bedarken'd clay
Like passage birds, with hasty flight,
It cannot be they perish quite,
Although they pass away.

They come and go, and come again;
They're ours, whatever time they stay:
Think not, my heart, they come in vain,
If one brief while they soothe thy pain
Before they pass away.

But whither go they? No one knows
Their home, — but yet they seem to say,
That far beyond this gulf of woes
There is region of repose
For them that pass away.