Classic Poem

You spake of reason, of reality,
As if high monuments of mental power
Were nought but dreams, to be thrown idly by,
And then forgotten in the self-same hour.
A hollow creed, and false philosophy,
Unworthy of the gentle and the good.
Framed by dull-hearted men, who strive in vain,
To think those flimsy cheats, gold — sleep — and food,
The aims and objects of our earthly life.
Oh live not thus with thine own heart at strife,
To build up that in beauty, without stain,
Is the true end of being — and God has given,
(Lest the soul faint in weariness and pain,)
Ethereal wings, to lift her up to heaven.