Classic Poem

To weigh as in a finely balanced scale
Each thought and action that the season brings,
Is but to fret the spirit with those things
Which after all are of the least avail.
It is enough to know we shall not fail
In all the sweet and high imaginings,
The nobler thoughts which lend to Love his wings
Though Time and Fate and even Death assail.

Analysis is common, and may seem
Through instances, conclusive as the leaf
Borne to the Ark by the returning dove;
But oftentimes may prove to be a theme
Which sends the worm of jealousy and grief
To blight the blossom of a perfect love.