Classic Poem

The sun's golden spear,
The violet cloud writhing in pain;
Golden the tint of the sky,
The tall trees wave their green-gold hair.

Music of this hour!
The zephyr's perfume-laden argosy
Drifts with the song of lutes
Down the sunset-stream that falls from heaven's bower.

Another flow of light,
Tinkling like the intangible bells of paradise,
Flows out of my heart
Into the mysterious love-perfumed ocean of night.