Classic Poem

I PASS my days among the quiet places
— Made sacred by your feet.
The air is cool in the fresh woodland spaces,
— The meadows very sweet.

The sunset fills the wide sky with its splendor,
— The glad birds greet the night;
I stop and listen for a voice strong, tender,
— I wait those dear eyes' light.

You are the heart of every gleam of glory,
— Your presence fills the air,
About you gathers all the fair year's story;
— I read you everywhere.