Classic Poem

Skies grey or green,
The brown old dome
Of earth, our home,
The same is seen.

O'er forest-gate
O'er mountain-wall,
The dome o'er all
Glooms dark and great.

But through skies swart
In hours of old
White bars or gold
Broke bright athwart.

Some storm-rift shone,
Bade see and greet,
Tremendous feet
That stood thereon.