Classic Poem

Thou art my all! The golden sun
Runs on its course by day,
Till sombre clouds and vapours dun
Fold round its chariot gay:
Yet without thee the world were dark,
The sun would never shine;
It would be just a wandering spark,
Were not thy hand in mine!
Yea, even the golden sun above
Owes all its glory to thy love.

Thou art my all! The flowers are fair
When summer comes to reign:
But bind the sweet buds in thy hair;
What sweetness new they gain!
The rose is rich, the lily white,
Yet sweeter each one grows
For soft communion with thy bright
Soft mouth, that richer rose.
Thou art indeed the loveliest thing
That passionate summer steals from spring.

Thou art my all upon this earth:
And thou wilt surely be
My all, when heavenly stars shine forth
On heavenly shores and sea.
My all on earth, my all in heaven,
My earthly summer's rose,
My perfect flower in that strange hour
When earthly summers close—
My light on earth, be still, sweet soul,
My light when life has reached its goal.