Classic Poem

The sigh of the wind in the soft belahs,
Is in tune with my thoughts to-night;
That dwell as I stray 'neath the steel bright stars
On a love that was pure and white.

And I start and thrill as I backward move,
For a face to me close I see;
Oh, surely the pow'r of a deathless love
Must be bringing you back to me!

For the thrill of that dear old love is sweet,
And it sinks to my heart's sad core;
As fresh as it did ere a soul's defeat
O'erwhelmed it in days of yore.

You said I was cold when we said “good-bye,”
And you thought that your words were true.
I tell you now, with my face to the sky,
That I loved far better than you.

But the love we buried deep out of sight
On the day that we said “good-bye,”
Must go back again whence it came, to-night,
And its ghost in the grave must lie.

For the march of time, and the hand of fate,
And the growth of the great and free,
Have built up a wall and have barred a gate
Now and ever 'twixt you and me.

For you love to look on the lotus feast,
And drift in a westering way;
But I've set my face to the pregnant east
Where I watch for a broad new day.