Classic Poem

— Until we meet again — — ah, happy meeting!
But, weary with the town, I crave God's pity
And ask cool meadows for that promised greeting,
Far from the jewelled gates, the shining city;

Wide meadows where the buttercups are golden,
No jewels there but eyebright and red clover,
A stream that creeps by willows grey and olden,
Waters with weeds and flowers 'broidered over.

Great dragon flies that flit and gleam and quiver,
Bees that make silence music by their humming;
— So still a place I'd ask of God the giver,
Where I might wait the moment of your coming;

Far from the thronging saints, the seraph quire
I'd see the dawning of my heart's desire.