Classic Poem

After the storm — a calm
That startles the blue to surprise,
And lustres the path
Where earth lies
All spent with the hurricane's wrath.

After the day of toil —
The hush of the cool summer eve,
The purple-dyed west,
And the weave
Of beautiful things sun-caressed.

After the dark, the morn
Dims softly each radiant star,
Till the blush of its ray
Hides afar
In the heart of the conquering day.

After the fight is o'er,
And the tumult of conflict is past,
From a whirlwind of dust
Shall a vast
Morn break to an infinite trust.

And the war shall be nothing at last
But a glistening tear, love-impearled,
By sorrow and sacrifice left
On the sunlit face of the world.