Classic Poem

I held no trust in this, that it should last!
Of no malignant fates stand I the sport.
If any memory plague me with the past,
I of most clear foreknowledge make retort.
What are the powers that at earth's center live
That such a dream as ours they should permit?
Why, Heaven itself would have no more to give
If Hell allow we should not wake from it!
Dreaming, I saw beyond the curtained dream,—
Half-conscious ever of the stubborn day
Waiting to smite our turrets, high a-gleam,
With armored siege of hurtling ray on ray.—
What would you have, dear lady?—who, for love,
Did ask the world that from its course it move?