Classic Poem

Times are there when I long to know
The mystery beyond life's wave,
Even at the awful price, to go
Unmated through the grave.

Times, when our loves and hatreds, all
Of level vast, or skyey steep,
Seem only like the meadow wall
A very lamb might leap.

Times, when within my heart the grain
Of faith into a mountain grows,
As suddenly as in the rain
The bud becomes a rose.

Times, when in fancy's shining fold
Joys out of heaven are drawn to me,
As stars in twilight's net of gold
Out of the sunset sea.

Times, when rebellion so abounds
Within me, I, though Satan's mark
Would twist his fiery wings to crowns,
And glorify the dark.

Times, when I feel myself a wreck
And hear a voice say in my heart,
" Better a mill-stone round thy neck,
Than being what thou art. "

So am I driven upon life's stream,
By every wave, by every breeze,
From good to ill — my life a gleam
Between the darknesses.