Classic Poem

At last they came, the treasures I had longed
To hold within my hands for many days.
With eagerness I cut the cord and gazed;
From wide unfathomable eyes of bliss
The mystical mother looked upon me there;
The child sat throned upon her arms as King
Of all the worlds and the long reach of time.
I looked at it with feelings gently touched,
And loved the mighty artist for his gift,
Though but a faint reflection was my own.
Now underneath this picture lay one more,
The fair incomparable Madonna, she
Who floats amid the softly-parting clouds,
Her feet upon the moon, and circled by
A crowd of lovely angels, winsome babes,
That take the air as native element,
Miraculous flight of playful birds of Heaven.
I lingered with them long, and gazed at them,
And held them in all lights, and strove to catch
Some glimpse of the deep message they contained.
At length I cut my cord and placed my hooks,
And hung them, but the day was pale and gray,
And rain-clouds strove to weep their bitter tears
For this earth's many sins, and robe in gloom
The habitations and the homes of men.
I could not get them in the proper light,
I took them down and tried another way,
But it was all in vain; they hung awry,
They were too far apart, they were too near.
I tried again, again, but all in vain.
And now the clouds assembled thick and vast,
The sudden lightning gleamed, and thunder rolled
Sullen across the summer's sultry air.
I sat me down, and could not hold my tears,
And felt somehow an aching sense of loss,
For all my joy was simply dust and ashes.