Classic Poem

Thou art my wings—
And thou the nest
Whereto I fly;
Thou art the sky,
Thou art the soaring rest
Beyond white cloud—where no bird sings.

Thou art my dawn—
The mated call
I answer, Love!
Thou art above
The choiring—'neath the small
Heart, breaking that the night is gone.

Thou art the Sun—
The tremor thou
Within my breast,
Thou art my West—
The East I spurn, as now
To heaven I hail thee, day begun!