Classic Poem

I

Brighter than gem on the brow of the royal,
They 'broider the hem of the robe of the Morning;
Richer than red drops that gleam in the wine-cup,
They silver the tops of the blossoms of dawning;
The earth-stars hold
The mellow gold
Flung by the sunbeam to kiss the fair crysmals,
They shatter the stream of the pale yellow barring;
Breaking the shaft of the tiny moat arrows,
They dimple and laugh at the sunlight's gay warring.

II

Clinging to kiss the pink cheeks of the daisy,
They shimmer like diamonds amid the sweet clover,
Brimming with nectar the lily's white chalice,
They coyly lure the gay, thoughtless field rover.
With tender gleam
Of pale moonbeam,
Weeping their tears o'er the dead of the battle,
They mingle their lives with our gladness and sorrow;
The lowliest grave-mound, forgot by the flower,
Is crowned with the blossom of dewdrops each morrow.