Classic Poem

The wind, the stars, the mountains and the sea—
With these thy beauty dwells within my heart
From frail and mortal loveliness apart,
Sea-deep, star-bright, hill-steadfast and wind-free:
Yet, though with these thou share eternity,
Not theirs the mortal tenderness of thee.

Though with the wind 'neath sun and moon and stars
On tossing sea, sheer peak and wintry fell
I ever toil and triumph, though the spell
Of wandering water holds me, though hill-scars
I crest, and night-throned Jupiter and Mars
Enthrall me, yet the mortal frailness bars

My soul from their cold immortality;
For they, aloof from our flame-flickering life,
Its futile passions, short-lived peace and strife,
Unshadowed by death-ridden destiny,
Blind, hopeless, fearless, loveless, passion-free,
Can never feed the heart with sympathy.

But, though thy soul should see the ocean spilled,
The hills dissolve, the shuddering stars burn out
And all the winds with one despairing shout
Perish in some new dawn of dreams fulfilled—
Some new eternity man's soul shall build
With hands by fruitless toil for triumph skilled—

Because the human heart in thee doth know
The hopes and fears that burn and rend my heart,
Because thou livest, breathes and hast part
In every ecstasy of joy or woe,
More art thou to me than all winds that blow
Or seas or stars or mountains peaked with snow