Classic Poem

Sometimes I wonder through what magic doors
The spirit enters on its heritage;
On what remote and ultimate dim shores
The mighty currents of each turbulent age
Come to a pause; and though I search the lores
Of ancient language and the mellowing page,
I stay unknowing; but at times there pours
Music around me in my pilgrimage.

So when my soul its passions would assuage
And I go pondering on that heart of yours
And find it hushed to depths I cannot gauge,
Guessing at what it kneels to and adores,
This music comes, and with it the presage
Of footfalls along heavenly corridors.