Classic Poem

If we are naught but shadows, as they say,
Seen briefly as a sunset while we pass,
If life is tinkling cymbals—sounding brass—
And love a dream that quickly fades away—
Fate may not rob us; we have had our day;
Have heard the music and have drained our glass;
And if we are to perish as the grass
Death cannot quench the spark which lit our clay.

For Love beyond all else is vestal flame
That burns forever, constant as is Time
Steadfast and bright as is the Northern star;
And when, like mist, we vanish as we came,
Mayhap our passion shall imbue this rhyme
With life for others, shadows though we are.