Classic Poem

Through all the night I looked upon a face
Bent o'er me in a dream without a word;
Never a flutter nor a breath I heard,
But, ah, the steady eyes were full of grace

And not mere grace alone spoke from those eyes,
—Or else those eyes have done me grievous wrong—
A love was there, sweet, tempered like a song
That floods the soul with splendor and surprise

And all my soul arose, to meet upright
The joy that those can know who taste love's best;
And: “Shine,” I cried, “till all my soul is blest,—
Till all my being answers to such light!”


O heart too weak to hold that vision sweet!
O light too white for my unworthy soul!
Elsewhere are hearts that shall contain the whole;
Elsewhere are souls shall know that love complete