Classic Poem

WHEREIN HE CHAFES AT HIS BONDS AND IS CHIDED

On wings of meditation I ascend
To the celestial seat so often, some
Might think I hid a treasure in God's home,
The mortal veil abandoned at the end.
A sweet chill shakes my heart as I attend
The loveliest bell-tones pealed in Christendom,
Ringing, " Ah, friend, now that thou art become
So altered, I adore thee, ah, dear friend! "
She leads me to her Lord: straightway I kneel,
Proffering humble prayer that He permit
His perfect face and hers to profane eyes.
Whereat He answers, " Certain is thy seal;
To linger ten or twenty years seems wise —
And but a brief space, though thou chafe at it. "