Classic Poem

Go forth, deep lost in thought,
Where none intrude,
And let thy faith be wrought
In solitude:
Truth waits, yet must be sought.

Yes, with thyself commune,
And, soft as lute,
Thy heart-strings thus attune
To love that's mute,
And vain aspirings prune.

'Tis only love — complete —
That will endure,
When earth-life frail and fleet,
And hopes not sure,
Depart, — pure love, I weet, —

The sentiment that's shrined
Deep in the heart;
The wealth of soul and mind;
That better part
Of man, not yet defined.

The life of life upright,
God-like endeavor;
The star that crowns the night;
The long forever
That's lost in calm delight.