Classic Poem

Among the windy spaces
The star-buds grow to light;
With pale and weeping faces
The day-hours bow to night;
Where down the gusty valleys
A blast of thunder dies,
And in the forest alleys
A startled night-bird cries.

Not pain but bitter pleasure
Surrounds my spirit here,
For life's supernal treasure
Is garlanded with fear;
Bright trees delight the garden
About my love's glad home,
But all the flower-roots harden
Under the frost of doom.

Like the bright stars above me
My youthful hopes were set!
Yearning for lips that love me;
O how can I forget
The boyish dreams that brought me
To the high azure gate
Of heaven, where beauty sought me,
And love was satiate?

Now honour lets me dally
No longer with desire,
But goads me to the valley
Of death, and pain, and fire;
Not love but hate constraining
The soldier in the field,
Honour alone remaining
Of virtue for a shield.

Yet who dare doubt, resigning
The joys that mortals prize —
Beyond the heart's repining,
Behind the sightless eyes —
For all the tears and anguish,
The piteous dismay —
True love at length shall vanquish,
And crown the dawning day?