Classic Poem

Yea, all the resonant heights of ether parted,
We joined the angels in their glittering throng,
Not two, but one—one-souled, one-lipped, one-hearted,
We passed their gleaming myriad bands among;
And through our souls the heavenly music rung,
And through our ears the heavenly message sped
Tender, and round about our hearts it clung:
The gentle whisper of the gentle dead:
It was as if a nightingale had sung,
It was as if some golden word was said;
The stars our hastening onward footsteps led—
Then up the sudden white moon-glory sprung,
And in those heavenly halls we slept and dreamed,
While white upon me thy moon-whiteness gleamed.