Classic Poem

I think some constancy was his
Of worlds that move from ours apart,
Hushing with deeper harmonies
The rioting passions of the heart.

Though darkness brooded on the way
Wherein his measured course was run,
He dwelt in a serener day
With movements of a greater sun.

And we who knew him came to know
Some touch of that high silent grace
Which let no clouded tempest blow
The calming starlight from his face.

No intimate dream can give release
From life's enforced and narrow bars;
Yet was there in that bosom's peace
Something not sundered from his stars.