Classic Poem

There fell pure space between
Fate's sweep of honor deep;
There the clash of bitter pulse,
Night coldly wept asleep.

The sob of love was lost
And therein my play,
As the prayer — mine life —
Was strewn from cause astray.

Upon river, field, or in my room
The teem of beauty sank;
Such fall, O God — God!
Such fall, my prayer here I drank!