Classic Poem

“S TARTLE not my lonely gloom,
Shine not in my darkened room,
Spirit of the Summer!
Winter hoar and Autumn sere
Shall from me have warmer cheer
Than thou, radiant comer!

“Cold—with icicles for hair—
And Decay—who scarce can bear
Weight that inly presses—
Less do ye offend my sight
Than this vision of delight
With her false caresses!

“Give me good that will endure,
Or the grief that mocks at cure;
But no passing splendour—
Cruel mother of a bliss
Which when rising to her kiss
She doth so surrender!

“Hence then, Summer! though thy breath
Woo with fragrance, and thy wreath
Ransack Nature's treasure—
Though the enamoured zephyrs creep
Round thy robe until they sleep
Swooning with the pleasure!

“Scarce dost thou attain thy prime
Ere thine envious servant, Time,
Narrows daylight's glory;
Flowery meshes that entwine
Thy feet, are but too apt a sign
Of thy beauty's story.”

Then, with voice that did exhale
Tenderness, She chid my wail:—
“Nought that's bright should perish!
Though my form desert thine eyes,—
Know the beauty never dies
That the heart can cherish.

“Love me!—Though I quit thy side,
In thee shall my power abide;
And, my grace recalling,
Thou shalt loveliness perceive
In the October rose, and grieve
Gently for its falling.

“Friends that gather round thy hearth
When the snows envelope earth
Shall have greeting fonder,
If in summer twilights ye
Mutely strayed, and tenderly
In their hush did ponder.

“Angel faces Youth beholds
When the veil of Time unfolds,
Though so soon it closes,
Once beheld are known till death;
And on Memory's bosom Faith
Placidly reposes.

“Outward beauty thus awakes
Human love; and but forsakes
That the inward yearning
By its passion may create
Glories rarer than await
Mortal sight's discerning.”