Classic Poem

I HAD a jewel passing rich,
Set in its lovely frame;
How on the prize my heart was fixed
From the bright day it came!

The setting was of choicest skill,
As fair as fair could be;
And art divine had done its best
To make it sweet to me.
The purple haze of distant hills,
The evening's golden light,
The bending rainbow's painted arch,
Were, to my eye, less bright.

The gleaming of the silver sheen
Across the summer sea;
The grace that winds the clinging vine
Around the greenwood tree;
The weeping elm, the stately pine;
The breath of fragrant flowers;
The broad, blue sky, the landscape green,
The leafy, sheltering bowers;
The dark line of the circling hills
Around the horizon's verge;
The blue rim of the far-off sea,
Where billows toss and surge, —
All have their glory; all, their worth;
On each the dazzled eye
Loves to look lingeringly, and gaze
Raptured and dreamily;
From each the mantle of such grace
Seems round its charms to fall, —
The setting of my beauteous gem
To me surpassed them all.

So fair the setting; fairer yet
The priceless, sparkling gem,
Fit honor for a princely hand,
Or regal diadem.
The jewel made the setting bright,
Within whose clasp it shone;
'T was for its sake the frame was carved;
The chief charm was its own.

And happy seasons onward passed,
And mornings went and came;
And still the precious jewel there
Flashed in its precious frame.
At last, some sad, sad chance befell,
Which dashed it to the ground:
The precious setting, ruined, fell;
The gem was safe and sound.

My babe was like the jewel rare;
The frame, his cherished form;
I pressed it to my throbbing heart,
Dreading some wasting storm.
The storm has spoiled the setting fair,
But for a season given;
The gem I prized, unharmed, still shines
Forever safe in heaven.