Classic Poem

As some wild sea-gull on his gleaming breast
Might mirror the red splendor of the West,
And with that tiny, fleeting hint of sky
Might fly far inland to a face that's pressed
Against the bars of some old fortress grim,
So, not so fleet, yet faithful still, would I,
With eager wings and strenuous beating, fly,
If that I might bring hints of life's fair best
From the great ocean, to those souls that cry
For life,—from this world's dungeons dark and dim.