Classic Poem

Threads of the thin and silver air —
Songs that the palest stars have sung:
Dawn hides in the dark hills to hear
That speech of starry tongue;

Then through the waking forest fall
Infinite streams enchanting day,
Till wind goes ranging and their call
On wind is borne away;

The grey wind's voice must falter soon,
So, mounted small on empty blue,
A lark drinks up the drooping tune
And lifts it on anew;

But Noon is like a quiet pool
Brimming the mute and misty land:
Now Life, a leafy cup o'erfull,
Trembles in God's still hand.

Whitethroat is hushed, his talk quite stilled,
Fails suddenly the blackbird's cry,
With strangeness is the woodland filled,
The dim fields listening lie,

For to their voiceless pasture one
Glad singer of the gentlest breath
Flutes on, when every tune is done,
The reedy singer, Death.