Classic Poem

The olive sky shone through the birch's lace
Of hanging leaves. The silken air was still.
London was beautiful. A tender thrill
Of sunset shook throughout the evening's grace.

Under an apple tree I stood a space,
And watched the birds hop on the lawn, until
Darkness had bent all image to his will,
When oh! upon the rapt sky dawned your face!

Be brave, O Moon, lonely among the stars.
Be unrebuked and radiant, they will pale;
And Earth will love you for your loveliness.

My brain beats madly at the golden bars
That stay it, and my heart would have me scale
The moonlit branches where the night winds press.