Classic Poem

I SIT where the leaves of the maple
And the gnarled and knotted gum
Are circling and drifting around me,
And think of the time to come.

For the human heart is the mirror
Of the things that are near and far;
Like the wave that reflects in its bosom
The flower and the distant star.

As change is the order of nature,
And beauty springs from decay,
So in its destined season
The false for the true makes way.

The darkening power of evil,
And discordant jars and crime,
Are the cry preparing the wilderness
For the flower and the harvest-time.

Though doubtings and weak misgivings
May rise to the soul's alarm,
Like the ghosts of the heretic burners,
In the province of bold reform.

And now as the summer is fading,
And the cold clouds full of rain,
And the net, in the fields of stubble
And the briers, is spread in vain —

I catch through the mists of life's river,
A glimpse of the time to be,
When the chain, from the bondman rusted,
Shall leave him erect and free —

On the solid and broad foundation,
A common humanity's right,
To cover his branded shoulder
With the garment of love from sight.