Classic Poem

I saw him first one snowy winter night,—
 But summer's fire glowed in his youthful breast,—
A humble seeker for Masonic light,
 A pilgrim journeying for Masonic rest;
 From the bright orient southward to the West,
Darkly he journeyed, while our eyes inquired
 If form, and heart, and garb fulfilled our test.
From the ordeal he came, as one inspired,
And glad amongst us stood, enlightened and attired.

Once more I saw him,—but his eyes were hid,
 Hoodwinked by death; as with an iron band
His limbs were fettered; 'neath the coffin lid
 The strong man lay extended, and his hand,
 Whose grip had thrilled me, ah! how dead it spanned
His pulseless breast! yet round our Brother's head
  Thrice we encircled , though with grief unmanned,
And with respectful tenderness we spread
Upon his breast green sprigs, fit presents to the dead.

For he had journeyed further, learned a lore
 Profounder, drank in purer light than we,
And of desired treasure gathered more
 Than dwells in all the mines of Masonry!
 What unto us is veiled in mystery
Was real to him, and by his Master's side,
 Knowing as he was known, the dead was free!
Therefore we paid our homage to the dead,
And, “We shall meet again, our Brother dear,” we said.

And we shall meet again, not as in quest
 Of light Masonic, nor as in that time
When last I saw him pallid in his rest,
 But in a Lodge transcendently sublime!
 Death there shall ring no funereal chime,—
No weeping band shall go about its dead,—
 But light and life inspire an endless hymn;
Ah, happy we, whose very grave may shed
Effulgent hope and joy as round its brink we tread!