Golden Light

Dwelling with those volumes olden

In his garret, closed from all;

Vainly seeking there the golden

Secrets of this cosmic ball.

Crammed with lore and learned madness,

With his dream of golden light:

Found a world of antique sadness

In those books of perished night.

Then from out his dingy garret —

Leaving all that lore and rhyme —

Walked he in the living air, at

Sun-peep, in the August time.

Then he wept for all the wasted

Years spent in the Perished Night,

For he knew that now he tasted

What he longed for — Golden Light.

Gordon Stace Smith