Classic Poem

WHEREIN, THE LIGHT OF LIFE HAVING LEFT HIM, HE TURNS TO GOD

Death has put out the burning of the sun;
Her constant eyes his dark dominions keep:
Dust is my Lady — dust and a long sleep;
My bright elected laurels are undone:
I know my bliss and bitterness are one:
No more may passion in my pulses leap
From flame to frost, from bold to timorous creep,
With anguish crawl, with hope the wind outrun.
Out of Love's blind despotic hands who wastes
And hallows, loosed from Love's dear bitter bands,
My heart the acid-sweet of freedom tastes.
And to the gracious Lord who understands,
Who, with His sovereign forehead halts or hastes,
I turn with my life broken to His hands.