Classic Poem

Once again against the window beats the rain,
Once again
The winds are washing back the wasted years
And their pain.

Once again I feel the fingers of the past,
And the crying
Of the ghosts of summer's sudden laughter
And slow dying.

And the present merges formless with the past,
The future? No more
Than the sighing of the night wind in the branches
At my door.

Have I not reaped full harvests of the heart
For my needs?
Have I not stored my mind with peace and promise
Of good deeds?

Then why, O God, this sadness of the soul
With falling leaves,
When the lost winds wail in the darkness
And the earth grieves?

No answer now, no comforting to come
From the years?
Must the night winds always bear their freighting
Of salt tears?

I have sought for solace in love's embracing
And dear delight,
Only to lose the pale fitful gleaming
In clouds of night.

I have been driven by sharp stern endeavor
Toward the goal.
Success? 'Tis but the feeble blind groping
Of the soul.

Can all the dust of broken dreams make answer
But in kind?
Can fame and name and glory and possession
Feed the mind?

Somewhere down the corridors of silence
Waits the night.
Somewhere, always somewhere just beyond me
Shines the light.

But now the darkness covers me and fear;
Once again
My heart's adrift with naked storm-tossed branches
And wild rain.