Classic Poem

O love, when thou dost come into my heart,
(E'en though it be but short and changeful love,)
A feeling of good-will toward all who move
Seems of thy joy an ever-present part
Therefore my thought hath often pictured thee
As some bright angel, who dost see how hard
It is for men to love pure and unmarred,
To climb the heights their aspirations see,
And so dost come down with thy glorious lamp
And set it in our hearts, when straight-way flee
All evil impulses we could not tramp
Beneath our feet while yet we knew not thee
For love of woman is the golden door
Through which we pass and long to sin no more.