Classic Poem

I CANNOT tell the spell that binds thine image
Forever in my heart,
Nor why thy presence seems to my existence
Its very, vital part.

But yesterday a weary-hearted stranger
Chance-hindered in thy way,
To-day with thee through thought's wide realm a ranger,
All sorrow chased away.

As the clear sunlight drives away the tempest,
So from thy gentle face
The light of heavenly truth illumes my spirit
With its celestial grace;

Calming my billowy soul to holy quiet,
Till from all else afar
I turn to thee, and grieve, when thou art absent,
Like night without a star.

I read thy favourite books, and trembling linger
Over each pencilled line,
Weeping glad tears to find at last one spirit
With faith and dreams like mine;

Faith in humanity's divine perfection
And dreams of that fair time
When God shall see in us His own reflection,
Cleansed from all stain and grime.

I hear thy voice from this my lonely chamber
Amidst the festive throng,
And my heart leaps, as fountains cavern-hidden
Leap to the wood-bird's song.

Thy quick, light foot-fall breaks the twilight stillness,
My pain is all beguiled;
I meet thy gaze, electrical and tender,
And am again a child.

Strangely my soul is hourly drawing toward thee,
Patient of toil or care,
If, daily duty done, thou sit beside me
In the calm evening air;

In the calm evening, when from earthly fetters
My spirit finds release,
And rests beneath the wings of that fair angel
Whose gentle name is Peace.

I cannot tell the spell that binds thine image
Forever in my heart;
I only know thou art to my existence
Its very, vital part.