Classic Poem

Good night! rest craves this wearied brain,
And rest these eyes of mine;
But lo! they're wide awake again,
And looking into thine.

Thy glance sincere my fancy takes,
And every sense it thrills,
And o'er my heart thy calm smile breaks,
Like morning o'er the hills.

The wintry night, a summer light,
At thy approach doth show,
The raptured stars shine yet more bright,
More pure those banks of snow.

O little room! O shabby room!
That'st heard my sacred vow,
In splendours veil thy dingy gloom,
She's thinking of me now!

I know it! By yon stars which roll
Bright sister lamps apart!
The soul may strike thro' space to soul;
Heart telephone to heart.

O happy pain! Conflicting fate!
To love what's all divine,
And yet to have no offering great,
To lay upon her shrine.

Away such thoughts! 'tis vain to grieve
At smallness of my store,
For had I empire's dower to give,
I still would give thee more.

And had I more than empire's dower,
Still more I'd fain bestow,
Great Jove might lend me all his power,
Yet my demands would grow.

Beyond the verge of mortal bounds
My heart's desires expand,
Far — far — through wide eternal rounds,
I'd lead thee by the hand.

But that my bliss thy bliss could mar,
Did God this hour me show,
I'd face cold ways which know no star,
I'd dry my tears and go.

For may my years stand all accurst,
My flag fall in the strife,
If I don't rate thy peace as first,
And love thee more than life.

Good night! thou'rt here — my heart throbs vouch;
Thy heart too sure must leap;
Sweet! bend thee o'er my wintry couch,
And kiss these eyes to sleep.