Classic Poem

(For a drawing by Sydney Joseph)

Youth, pausing at the outer portal,
Felt the music surge as a dawn in the blood;
Saw through the open doors the immortal
White loveliness of dancers flash and move
In trembling ecstasy to the music's mood
And, suddenly lonely in the terror of love,
Stood hesitant and dumb. Then to her side
Came Death, hooded in thick black, pale and hollow-eyed,
Who, seeing how in Youth's eyes the moment burned,
Rose-flame, a clear and windless radiance,
Cried: " Remember all the beauty that is turned
Wearily to the dust; loves toward which no lovers call;
And feet that stir not now for any dance. "
And Youth — that was and is love's thrill —
Replied: " Love draws its richness from the dust;
And beauty, passing in its April bloom,
Had not that perilous device we know,
But for some queen who, long ago,
Covered her golden hair with rust
Where some old town crashed to a crimson doom. "