Classic Poem

I stand upon the heights beneath the blue,
Wide, sunlit spaces of a sky, cloud-torn.
Below, far ranges on my vision dawn,
Transfused in soft and amethystine hue.
I feel, perchance, as some great god would do
At the first break of an Olympian morn,
When to his primal senses freshly borne,
He caught the wonder of the world he knew,
So might Apollo thrill, when flying rein
And fiery chariot flung the day outspread;
Thus Proserpine, as all the fields of grain
Blossomed beneath her cool, creative tread;
Or Jupiter, with joy that stabbed like pain,
Looked in the eyes of Juno, newly wed!