Classic Poem

While sunset stains the windows of the west
In parting glory drest,
Ere yet the evening star leads in the hours
That hush all voices in their leafy bowers
Save the lone bird's that shuns the light;
Ere in the burning chamber of the night
With sacramental rite
Of dewdrops on the cerements of the flowers
Its burden dropped, its sins confessed
Our long drawn day is laid at length at rest
We, flung together as the seeds are thrown
The sower's hand has strown,
But clinging as the iron sands that feel
The soul-like effluence of the enchanted steel,
We whom the years have tried
And clustered closer, striving to divide,
Beside our altar kneel
And thank the gracious Power that made our own
The sacred gift of love the best that life has known.

For what has life but love when all is told?
Fame? pleasure? empire? gold?
Fame breeds the worm that gnaws its greenest leaves;
Pleasure is hope that smiles and still deceives;
Power! target of envenomed cares!
Gold! See the rippled brow the ash-hued hairs
Its hoarding vassal wears!
A sable woof the loom of fate in weaves
With every web by time unrolled;
Love, only love it wraps in snow-white fold.