Classic Poem

My Love, thine eyes have been to me
Like to a bird that singeth in the night
To one who waits the coming of the light
Through the enormous solitude of sea.

Thy beauty fell upon my mind
Like song to one within a darkling land
Who, with fear on him like a bloodless hand,
Hears the large, hurrying whisper of the wind.

My Love, thy heart is like a prayer
To one who, dying at the gates of morn,
Stirless, in splendid effort and great scorn,
Sends forth his soul to meet the last despair.

And oh, thy Love is as a road
To one who waits in deserts of the soul,
And sees through Life, whose waves of fever roll,
The waking Sorrow in the breast of God.