Classic Poem

The mind should ripen with the mellowing years,
E'en as an Autumn tree. The evening sail
Gathers the glow. Quest of the Holy Grail
Is not for youth, untried by love and tears.
Death's cataract roars, but still the poet hears
Not Death's voice, but a voice beyond the veil;
The gray wings of the Spirit do not quail,
But throb for finer ether of the Spheres.

Shall coming age deflower me by disuse?
Ah no! e'en as the rich exotic rose
Flames Winter into June, so shall the Muse
Beneficent, my season still prolong,—
And glowing on my wintry days, disclose
A later blooming of the flower of Song.