Classic Poem

Linger awhile, oh day of happy tears,
Of trembling gladness and of weeping joy;
Linger awhile before the twilight fears
And the forebodings of the night destroy
All that my heart still hears.

All that my heart still hears are broken words,
Phrases and tones too sweet to be believed—
Half-sighs that fluttered from her lips like birds,
Or like some poignant bit of song that grieved
In lovely minor thirds.

Day, when thou goest, each morn will seem to say
Thou hast come back from strange and distant climes—
Thy face shall never fade nor pass away,
And thou shalt be re-born a thousand times,
Thrice happy, tearful day.