Classic Poem

I stood and leant against the mast
To count each billow trying.
Oh fair my fatherland, adieu!
How the good ship is flying!

My true love's windows glisten bright
As past them I am fleeting;
I stare until my eyes are dim,
But get no sign of greeting.

Oh, that I may not blinded be,
Ye tears, keep distant from me;
Oh sore-sick heart, break not, although
Griefs all too great o'ercome me.