Classic Poem

Grudge not that I so long for thee,
These foreign hours within the land
Where every day brings song for thee
And 'fore my sight
In every light
Thou dost stand.

I ask thee not to follow me
And leave the treasure of thy soul,
Nor e'er again to hallow me
With the surprise
Of thy sweet eyes
Opened whole.

My dream shall not lie heavy on
The tender region of thy hope, —
The sunrise of oblivion
Across the sky's
Nocturnities
Flutters up!

But when across the greenery
Of forest tree and meadow grass
And o'er the summer scenery
Sunlit and kind
The twilight wind
Comes to pass,

The tears arise so fortunate,
The heart's delight so fair and free —
Alas that I'm importunate,
If yet I grieve
Not then to give