Classic Poem

Great ghost! who in the autumn of the year,
When through gaunt branches terrible winds that blow
Seem whispering to us, seem more close and dear
Than all the human voices that we know —
Great ghost! who loved uncomprehended space
And were so fevered with immortal time,
Who dreamed that heaven lit up one chosen face,
And trusted fantasies crowded into rhyme —
Be not too far from us; come, at the pane
Flatten your pale face and look in on us:
We also are of those who live in vain;
Like you we are noble and ridiculous;
Like you we haunt a savage autumn night
In dizzy errantries of lonely flight.