Classic Poem

I love the storm in early May,
When spring's first maiden thunder peals,
And, laughing in its frolic play,
Across the blue sky softly steals.

The little rumblings roll and reel;
The rain-shower glistens; flies the dust;
The rain-drop pearls in clusters cling,
And golden gleams the fields encrust.

From hillside headlong speeds the rill,
In groves the birds keep twittering,
And chattering wood and murmuring hill
Echo with joy the thundering.

I suffer still from anguished longing,
For towards thee still my spirit strives.
In a twilight of memories thronging
E'en now thine image still survives.

Thine image sweet, forgotten never,
Before me always, near and far,
Unreachable, unchanging ever
As in the sky of night, a star.