Classic Poem

Close near my eyelid
The golden threads were damp
That moved like a fairy cobweb
Beneath the orbly chant.

Gradation was it woven,
As it rose from the puzzle box,
To the highest place was proven,
As the lid would shut and relax.

Below and above, a godly stride
Like stalks in a fairy dream,
While lightning in the sky did hide
That shimmering, tearful gleam;

I closed mine eyes; the struggling heart
Held like the clouded sun;
While my hands grew cold, a tear did part
From the soul that glanced thereon.