Classic Poem

Come hither! Let thou and I
Mount on the dolphin, Pleasure,
And dive through the azure air!
Would't not be fine — would-'t not be rare
To live in that sweet, sweet sea, the air?
That ocean which hath no measure,
No peril, no rocky shore,
(But only its airy, airy streams,
And its singing stars, and its orbed dreams,)
For ever and evermore?

Of its wild and its changing weather,
What matter — how foul or fair!
We will ever be found together;
Ah! then, sweet Love, what care,
Whether we haunt on the earth or air?
In ocean or inland stream?
Or are lost in some endless, endless dream?
Or are bodiless made, like the tender sprite
Of Love, who watch'd me but yesternight,
With moon-flowers white on her whiter brow,
And smiled and sighed,
In her sad sweet pride,
As Thou , love, art sighing and smiling now!