Classic Poem

All the sorest pangs that ever
Preyed within my bosom's cell,
Were as nothing to the sorrow
Of our first and last farewell.

Hope was strong; but hope is blighted;
Her once bright eyes dimm'd with tears;
And the shadow of her sorrow
Darkens o'er the coming years.

For tho' lighter loves have loiter'd
Round the portal — by the wall —
Thine alone hath ever enter'd
In the holiest of all.

No rapt devotee adoring
At some saint's ascetic shrine,
Needs to cherish feelings holier
Than for thee were ever mine;

And perhaps here is the secret
That the spell has been so strong,
That you first woke noble feelings
That had slept too sound and long,

And thus taught the soul to listen
Glad, for graver tones and sweet,
Than the wanton Circean dirges
Wild, that swell down passion's street;

And a dawn of nobler doing
Rose before the jaded eyes,
And a star of purer promise
Sparkled in serener skies;

And the long long hidden fountains,
Of a noble boyhood's dreams,
Broke their subterranean fetters,
Filled the desert heart with streams.

Ah my God! what ground for marvel,
If belief grew strong each hour,
That you came as sent by heaven,
To give thought and life new power?

But tho' past the hope of winning
Constant strength from constancy,
Yet will, in the heart's sad gloaming,
Live refracted rays of thee.

Aye, and tho' I take as final,
This our fatal last farewell,
Thoughts now sweet, now sad, will quicken,
Feelings deep and tender swell,

When the wilful memory wanders
Wild, as wander oft she will,
Ghosts of hopes from burial calling,
Hopes that you alone could kill.

But farewell! my heart is breaking,
Love, resolve may render less,
But that morning dawns in darkness,
I released from tenderness.

So farewell! the poor heart lingers
Near her dead — hangs o'er the bier:
" Draw her thence; let go the funeral;
She is but a hinderance here. "

And the dead from sight is buried;
Whips crack loud; men go their ways;
But the mourner, in her chamber,
Weeps alone the weary days.