Classic Poem

If Autumn came to the universe
And the worlds like dead leaves fell,
If Time lay dumb in the boundless hearse
Of Space — an ended spell;
If this had chanced — as chance it may —
We still should be a part
Of all that dwells in the Abyss,
Or dreams within God's heart:

Of dust or dreams; till circling Life
Again should re-create
Sun, moon, and star with the old strife
Of their accustomed fate.
And, in a new birth, doubtless we,
Once more a-quest, should cry
For beauty all too rarely breathed,
And love less prone to die.