Classic Poem

A jewel of the painter's art:
With little flames made gay,
A silk screen sundereth apart
The country and the day.

Before the which that Carmelite,
The grown, ecstatic John,
Beareth the Infant clothed with light
And clad in mellow lawn.

Saint, who was born and grew and aged,
To whom did ne'er belong
A groat of worldly good, who caged
The Indies in a song.

Reverend Child, Thy ward beside,
John writeth in a book;
And at his next hand, near allied,
Thy cousin of the brook.

Such company in scope so small
Hold and behold Thee, Sun!
One light is the desire of all,
And John is every one.

Another bears that round, rich name,
Thine eye may light upon;
Child, in a corner, next the frame,
The poorest, poorest John.