Classic Poem

Though still the heart of twilight grieves,
As evening sun sinks low,
And sad winds stir the fallen leaves
With airs of long ago,
No shadow grim can ever dim
The glory of this hour,
When thus the blazing hearth we trim
Beneath the Lotos flower.

Old time may quench illusion's light,
And dreams of youth depart,
But neither time nor truth can blight
The sunshine of the heart,—
That gentle light of pure content,
Our sober manhood's dower,
Sweet peace and calm affection, blent
Beneath the Lotos flower.

In that dusk land of mystic dream
Where dark Osiris sprung,
It bloomed beside his sacred stream,
While yet the world was young;
And every secret Nature told,
Of golden wisdom's power,
Is nestled still in every fold
Within the Lotos flower.

Here let our weary burdens fall,
And passion's longing cease:
The gods of life have given all,
When once they give us peace!
Black care shall vanish in a laugh,
Forgot be beauty's bower,
When now the loving cup we quaff
Beneath the Lotos flower!