Classic Poem

O Rainbow, Rainbow, on the livid height,
Softening its ashen outlines into dream,
Dewy yet brilliant, delicately bright
As pink wild-roses' leaves, why dost thou gleam
So beckoningly? Whom dost thou invite
Still higher upward on the bitter quest?
What dost thou promise to the weary sight
In that strange region whence thou issuest?
Speakest thou of pensive runlets by whose side
Our dear ones wander sweet and gentle-eyed,
In the soft dawn of some diviner Day?
Art thou a promise? Come those hues and dyes
From heavenly Meads, near which thou dost arise,
Iris'd from Quiet Waters, far away!