Classic Poem

Perhaps, through life, 'twill not be always so—
But now, in my youth, the world seems to abound,
With things so beautiful that I feel crowned,
At times, with joy as great as Heaven can know.
Ay, there is very blackness oft to fight:
But at the sight of sunrise bright and strong;
Or sound of some sweet strain of waltz or song
Made precious by a ball-room's wild delight;
Or when I watch, with eyes that may seem bold,
The passing of fair women in the street,
Two arm in arm, perhaps, with cheeks that meet?
The air and flush, and tresses brown or gold;
My soul springs upward with such ecstasy,
I wonder that so much of joy can be.