Classic Poem

Exquisite stillness! What serenities
Of earth and air! How bright atop the wall
The stone-crop's fire, and beyond the precipice
How huge, how hushed, the primrose evenfall!
How softly, too, the white crane voyages
Yon honeyed height of warmth and silence, whence
He can look down on islet, lake and shore
And voiceless woods and pathless promontories,
Or, further gazing, view the magnificence
Of cloudlike mountains and of mountainous cloud
Or ghostly wrack below the horizon rim
Not even his eye has vantage to explore.
Now, spirit, find out wings and mount to him,
Wheel where he wheels, where he is soaring soar,
Hang where now he hangs in the planisphere —
Evening's first star and golden as a bee
In the sun's hair — for happiness is here!