Classic Poem

Long since the sun set in low-brooding storm
Enshrouded in tempestuous grey and gold,
And, as we cower beneath o'erwhelming night
Unlit of any star, the wind blows cold
Upon our brows that glowed so blithe and warm
While yet we looked upon the living light.

Yea, night is on us, blind and blank with fear
For us who dread the pitfalls of the dark,
Who, huddling close, with doubtful hearts await
The ultimate deluge, or the kindling spark
Of some incredible daybreak, and who peer
With hopeless eyes beyond the eastern gate.

Still darkness holds the heavens and eastward night
Broods deepest, yet, as we with groping hands
Touch one another timidly, a sense
Of imminent dawn thrills unknown sea and lands,
And we await the inevitable light
With breathless lips and fingers clasped and tense.

We live through dawns and sunsets; life is not
One day's triumphal progress: though it seem
That we shall look no more upon the sun,
Yet shall we live to realise our dream,
And see old dawns re-orient—this our lot,
To know no end, no last goal lost or won:

For we are children of eternity
And not of times and seasons; life and death
Are but as sunrise and sundown; we live
In the universal destiny, our breath
Infinity, for ever doomed to be
The immortal quickening in the fugitive.