Classic Poem

Take hands with me, dear unknown friend, and find
Some downy hollow, sheltered from the wind,
Where summer meadows overlook the sea;
There let us, in the grass at length reclined,

Hold converse, while the melting air around
Is full of golden light and murmuring sound,
And let your soul shine frankly upon me,
And I will tell the best my heart has found.

But first hold up against the light your wrist,
Where blue veins hide like unhewn amethyst,
So shall I know that you have bodily fire,
And purple that the sacred sun hath kissed.

Else, if your blood be chilly, go your way,—
I have no songs to sing to you to-day;
The goal to which our lyric hearts aspire
Must be the very core of life in May.