Classic Poem

BY WILLIAM B. FAIRCHILD .

Oh, beautiful, most beautiful
Each impulse of the heart,
Ere care hath twined its meshes round
And planted there its dart —
When youthful blood is coursing through
Each clear, transparent vein,
With a beauty and a mystery
That spurn at reason's rein.

Oh, then the " tell-tale countenance "
Each thought embodies forth,
And like the gems of night, the eyes
Do sparkle, bright with mirth —
And shadowings that flit across
The clear and polished brow,
Tell but of feelings in the heart
As pure as love's first vow.

No trial of this dark, dark world —
No load of fev'rish care —
Hath bowed the spirit down in pain,
Nor set its signet there —
But like the flowers that bloom in Spring,
Or like the angels bright,
It scatters round a joyousness,
A beauty and a light.

A bright connecting link it is
Of more than human birth,
'Twixt scenes of God's own Paradise
And dwellers on this earth.
Oh, would that we could bear for aye
The feelings of a child —
How sweet would be our path through life,
Our death how calm and mild.