Classic Poem

( " J'aime a me figurer. " )

I love to watch in fancy, to some soft dreamy strain
A choir of lovely virgins issuing angel-calm,
Veiled all in white, at even, from some old shadowy fane;
In hand — a palm!

A dream which in my darkest hours doth aye beguile
Is this: a group of children, ere they seek repose,
Merrily dancing; on each rosebud mouth a smile,
Each brow — a rose!

Haply a dream yet sweeter, that yields yet more delight,
Is of a radiant girl, who, betwixt joy and fear,
Dreameth of Love, not knowing, beneath God's stars love-bright;
In eye — a tear!

Another vision which doth lend my sorrow ease:
Lo, Marguerite and Jeanne, like birds at evening
Flitting across the lawn, across the shadowy leas;
Each foot — a wing!

But of all dreams whereon I gaze with pensive eyes,
This to my poet-soul most pleasure doth afford:
A tyrant stretched beneath God's awful starlit skies;
In heart — a sword!

A sword; but never a dagger! Poet, thy right
Is, 'neath the broad blue sky, a fair free fight,
Where, face to face, and foot to foot, and breast
To breast, thou stand'st, — and leav'st to God the rest.
Thou Justice' champion, ( he , the chos'n of hell!)
In the sun's eye cross falchions, and smite well;
Thy sword-clash ringing true as even thy song.
So, if yet once again Right fall 'neath Wrong,
Right's Warrior, mingling with death's shadowy bands,
Find Bayard and the Cid with outstretched hands.