Classic Poem

We can but hazard on the fate of souls
Beyond the marches of our earthly sphere;
It may be that our high adventure here
Is preparation for elected goals.
It may be, on that noonday summer-clear
When our life-currents, distant as the poles,
So beautifully crossed amid the shoals,
That destiny ordained our spirits near.

I only know that Chance has been as kind
As though persuasive of our own ideals,
Beating with us bright wings against the bars.
I only know you came; and though my mind
Still walks in unbelief, my spirit kneels,
And I am one with the unfailing stars.