Classic Poem

With burning hands and eyes all dull
I bring to you this drop of fire,
This topaz where the summerful
Of August afternoons expire.

The stone you gave me long ago:
A meteor from your life, it sought
My lonely bosom and below
Lay glowing in the gloom of thought.

From thence I took it pure and whole
To comfort me to-day, and found
That from the waters of my soul
These bands of gold have drawn around,

This little setting's nervous art,
Slow-formed but mighty, made to hold
The sunshine visiting the dark —
You, darling, that my arms enfold.