Classic Poem

O NOE upon a time,
Through the crevice of mine ear,
The Music of the Sphere
Ran into rhyme:

“Wouldst possess the starry treasure,
Elixir of Life and Pleasure?

“Only Truth is never olden,
Truth alone is ever golden.

“On whatever plain thou pitchest,
E'en the True man is the richest.

“And of all for whom thou waitest,
Aye the True man is the greatest.

“But, as most of all behooveth,
He alone is Good who Loveth:

“And however false man proveth,
He alone is True who Loveth:

“Who loves earliest, best, and latest,
Is the richest, best, and greatest!”

Then again all was at rest,
In mine ear;
Till I cried: “O Sphere!
Who of all men loveth best?”

Then the Sphere resounded farther:
“True King Alfred, True Knight Arthur!

“He that loveth like a lover
All that sin and all that suffer:

“He that loves all forms and features,
All creations and all creatures:

“Loves all souls, and spheres, and spaces;
Loves all regions and all races:

“Yet so loveth nothing finite,
But to God he can resign it:

“Living greatly for the Whole-sake,
Greatly suffering for the Soul-sake:

“Drawing all with true Endeavor,
To his heart of hearts forever.”

And lo, as I heard the last rhymes play,
The bird that is most like a bee hove near,—
Hummed the finalé in mine ear,
And whizzed away.