Classic Poem

The hand of time is free and unconfined,
And sows its wide delights;
It sows the lavish days among mankind,
And sows the sumptuous nights.
It sends the June-tide's pulsing overflow
Crested with foam of roses all ablow,
And flaunts the flying banners of the snow
From all the wintry heights!

Bosomed in beauty of the night and day,
The glories of the year,
Man gropes amid the grandeur on his way
To grasp inglorious gear.
Ah, could he see the splendors round him throng,
The Pageant of the Vision sweep along,
Then every soul would be a priest of song
And every man a seer.

The pageant of the vision still sweeps on,
The ages come and flee;
The beauty of the long years that have gone
Forevermore shall be.
And age by age the eyes of men shall gaze
On beauty, clearer with the fleeing days,
Till every voice shall raise the hymn of praise—
For every eye shall see.