Classic Poem

Smooth, tangible, accessible skin
That gives its sensual, carnal kin —
But lo! the heavens, the glossy smoke,
The spongy blue, clouds like yoke,

The inevitable air, draft of wind
That singes through each dwelling —
And strange with awe to feel
It thus, it seems forever swelling.

And crumbling earth. And there the rock,
The dampened waters flowing,
The dew that sets when sun is gone,
That feeds the buds when growing —

But ah! the tint's individual charm
That is so frail and yet so warm,
And there the animal with its fur
That has its place on field to stir.

The oak, the pine in its various woods,
The crude grown bushes with the berry hoods
And the seeds that float on high —
Mingle with the grass blade nigh.

And when the Autumn draweth near,
Paradise has locked its cheer.
But still, the evergreen tree
Sustains individually.