Classic Poem

Love that seeth best through tears,
Love by holy sorrow shriven,
Knows that length of living years
Could not give what Death has given.

What is fair, the seasons fret;
What is strong, like glass is shivered;
But immortal youth is set
On her brows from care delivered.

Blithe by fragrant ways she trod
Up the hill her loss leaves arid;
Where the summit touches God,
Slipped her sandals off and tarried.

Life full-blossomed into bliss,
Every hurt with love to heal it,
— Time, too poor for bettering this,
Bade his brother-angel seal it.