Classic Poem

Suddenly , out of the tortuous expression of ages,
Past, present, mingling, now superimposed or broken up from below,
To come once upon perfection, to stand breath-taken before one simple
Strong clear thought, one intention, one form in space, is to know

Happiness; that is not the loud shout of huzzahs, the eye's cup brimming over
With deep feeling held too long, released at last in the heart's cry,
That surges upward to a peak, a pitch, a flame's point and breaks unended—
The Gothic spire, the sweep of violins, the starred rocket against the sky.

To stand before this warm white stone, strong-poised, serene, completed,
Mellowed and rounded to the touch, along the smooth unwavering ascent,
Each long line upward in a purposed ending, a rich flowering
Of living leafage, curled over and eternal; this is happiness. A content

That stirs deeply and returns to its own place of satisfaction,
Rests in definite limits, is firm as the rounded pedestal of stone.
Roar over, you waves of time and eruption, change of mood and impulse and ambition
Toward beauty. This shining marble column in a dark archway stands alone.