Classic Poem

“The river turns to the peaceful breast
Of the brooding sea,
The red-bird turns to his mate in the nest,
The bud to the bee;
Oh learn, my love, from this sweet unrest—
And turn to me.

“The twilight sinks in the arms of sleep
At the day's decline;
The spent winds softly sink as they weep
In the arms of the pine—
Come down, oh love, from your frowning steep
And sink into mine.

“The breeze has a tale for the ear of the rose,
And her fragrance is stirred;
The Spring has a secret that everyone knows—
But I have not heard;
Oh love, ere the miracle draws to its close,
Whisper the word.”