Classic Poem

SONNET

T O L C RANMER -B YNG

The Crown of Song.

Seek thou the crown that brightest shines of all, —
That ever has gleamed before man's envious eyes
Seductive most, and most inviolate prize: —
Proud beauty wanes, and world-wide empires fall;
Rank ivy chokes some king's old banquet-hall;
Friendship may fail, the flower of passion dies;
But Thought within the imperishable skies
Sets stars that make the ages' festival.

Great is the power of golden-voiced rhyme:
Yea, though the grief-scarred centuries one by one
Flag, and their wings grow weary of the sun,
The song that makes an hour of bliss sublime
Endures, when all works wrought and all deeds done
Sink in the eddying foam-white waves of Time.