Classic Poem

I speak with thee, and all is bright;
The sky is deeper blue, the night
Is rich with song though stars are still;
Thy thought with music doth the silence fill,
And all the firmament with light.

The clouds hang low and cold and white,
The morning air is chill despite
The splendours of the sun, until
I speak with thee.

But thou hast wings and ready flight
And when my thoughts with thine unite
I mount the thronéd skies; the thrill
Of perfect life is mine, so will
I speak with thee.