Classic Poem

Fain would I weep, but weeping is denied;
Fain would I strive, with ardour upwards leap,
But striving is denied, on earth I creep
Where foul snakes all around me hiss and glide.
Fain would I near my dearest Love abide,
O'er my Life's Joy in circling space would sweep.
In her health-giving breath my own to steep
I was denied! My heart grew sick indeed.
Out of my broken heart the blood flows fast,
The scalding blood, and I wax faint and chill,
And to my eyes all things grow drear and drearer.
With strange mysterious thrill I long for nearer
View of that Cloudland where pale ghosts and still
Their loving arms would gently round me cast.