Classic Poem

Five roads lead to the human brain
And through these roads all must obtain
The commerce of all lore;
No thought can enter mental port
Of any kind or any sort,
Of modern days or yore,

Except such as a tariff pays
To pass these honored, great highways
Which lead to eminence,
And follow closely every nerve
Which God designed should truly serve
Each mind of consequence.

* * * * *

Perhaps that star in yonder sky,
May be my dwelling place on high,
When life on earth is done;
At eventide I love to gaze
Upon its soft reflected rays,
When silent and alone.

Its brightness charms and draws my soul,
By some mysterious, strong control
I cannot well explain,
Unless it be within it dwell
The friends of earth I loved so well,
Who could not here remain.