Classic Poem

An evanescent hue whose pearly gleam
Transfigures all it glows upon, a dream
Of forms aerial, chiseled so fair
That angel fingers must have lingered there.

A scent as of celestial roses blown
From consecrated meadows, many a tone
Sublime in ecstasy and rev'rent hush,
An exaltation that no wrong can crush.

A hint of harmonies in life's strange psalm,
A sense of Heaven's completeness, all its calm;
A shining goal suffused with radiant light,—
Such the Ideal that lures from height to height.