Classic Poem

Twenty stars to match his face,
All the winds to blow his breath.
In the dark no eye can trace
Life or death.

The word came, and out he went,
Heard the unseen flutterings
Of wings that showed the dream he sent,
The song he sings.

Twenty stars to match his face,
The sea-foam, his permanence —
There is no wind can mark his place
Here, or hence.