Classic Poem

Of death and time and silence softly wrought,
Beauty, effacing horror, healing pain,
Lies on the mountain slopes and fills the plain,
Quickens each sense and lulls each questioning thought.
Where broken shaft and empty shrine have caught
Wan glory of sunlight, ruin seems as gain;
And pitiful the little lives, and vain,
That loved, that played, and feasted, sold and bought.