Classic Poem

Wilt thou return, who hast abandoned me,
Thou whom I long for, thou whom I must love?
I cast mine eyes unto the skies above,
And see but gloom and clouds that turn and flee;
O moonrise or my sunrise, unto thee
I pour my longing, and have not thereof
So much of answer as one plume of dove,
Fallen from swift wing of messenger to be
Bringer of tidings glad and gentle words.
In all this stillness I sink fast toward Death,
No bodily ceasing but strange loss of soul;
Wilt thou not come, O Song, and wake the birds
Within me, answering thy faintest breath,
And sunwise smite the dark that is my dole?