Classic Poem

In this world of hasty knowing, in this world of doubt and dread,
Where men die with heart unopened, and the word of Fate unsaid,
They who mete and they who gather, counting out the shining spoil,
Bade me stand and tarry reck'ning, show my wages and my toil.

Comes a beggar to the banquet where the full in heart rehearse,
He shall take his place in silence, he shall neither bless nor curse;
We must cover his short-comings with a treasure of our own—
Meet it is, in spirit-council, men's possessions should be shown.

Let me pass then, as a spendthrift, with a single golden coin
I shall never risk or barter, for a kingdom or a mine;
Not for bread would I exchange it, tho' the wolf should gnaw my bones,
Not for pearls of purest water, not for wealth of priceless stones.

Nor the child I dearest cherish, shall inherit with my land
This, my chiefest of resources, shut within a dying hand;
Not too costly for the passage of the dark and silent sea,
If but Love, star-crowned, immortal, shall afford me company.