Classic Poem

I, POOR Satyr in the glade,
Saw a wonder, half afraid,
When the year at leafy time
Held all essences at prime;
Knew a miracle of dream
By wide sward and azure gleam,
Soft upon a breathing day,
When all earth, expectant, lay,
Worn of Winter, answering
To the vast awakening,
Where the woodland yearned afar
To a dream of drifting star.

When the lonely days were done,
And those magic ones had spun
All the woodland in a lace
Over coy earth's hidden face;
Knew a presence like a wind,
Soft at Summer, or a kind
Dream of dawning round the sky,
Rosy over hillroofs high.

Saw a vision, half a mist,
Pearl and glowing, cloudland kissed,
Saw a vision, heard a voice,
Bidding all earth's kin rejoice,
Like as leaves are lightly stirred
By a passing wind or bird.

Held a vision of a face
Peering out of purple lace,
Subtle weft of morns and eves,
Fair as Summer when she grieves
O'er her tender deaths of love,
Bending burgeoning earth above;
Lips of beauty, eyes of dream,
In whose opalescent gleam
All the hopes of earth and sky
And visions sweet of life did lie.
In this wonder-joy I grew
Swift to mood of bird and blue,
Sweet, this dream of life to scan,
Love, immortal—baptized, man.