Classic Poem

I made my love a little secret house,
Of emerald moss and silver birchen boughs,
Wherein to while away the sunny hours;
And in the roof I set a bubble, bright
With rainbow colours of the moon, and light,
Soft, golden radiance of the dew-drenched flowers.

I made my thoughts her silent servitors,
Clad them in soft, sad, silvery gossamers,
Weft in the twilight by a dryad sighing
For a forsaken love. I draped the walls
With blue-grey curtains of the night that falls,
Star-sprinkled, when the autumn-time is dying.

And all the little songs of love that die
Unbirthed in the heart's satiety,
The little whispers that the noisy world
Hath deadened into silence: these I brought
To be her minstrels, that her sleep be fraught
With quietude, as flower in slumber furled.

And then I led her in. She gazed around,
As though with all the quietness astound:
She lifted up her little mouth to speak;
Tremoured a little, while her frightened eyes
Grew bright, then dark, and dark, as daylight dies;
And life and colour faded from her cheek.

She looked at me and said: " Ah, let me live,
I love the sun, the mountain-winds that give
Spontaneous struggle: all the white and red
Of life. Dream-shackled, Love, I could not bide. "
Taking her hand I led my love outside
And let her go. The dream I dreamed was dead.