Classic Poem

The Night has risen like the sound
Of solemn music from the ground,
And blackens with her dusky hair
The thin, ambiguous air;

And moonlight lies, a pallid pall,
On sombre woods funereal;
The moon-struck leaves speak mystic words;
And rivers flash like swords.

O white and solitary blossom,
Night wears upon her ancient bosom,
Scentless, a flower of silver light
That only glows by night;

The sword of Winter hath no power
To slay thee, O bright Phoenix-flower!
Thy life is as the changing seas,
Changeless through centuries