Classic Poem

Away on the fair horizon
The city with spire and tower
Appears like a vision in cloudland,
Veiled by the twilight hour.

A wet sea-breeze is crisping
Our grey path over the sea,
And the pulsing oars chime sadly
As the boatman roweth me.

Once more the sun, resplendent,
Mounts from the ocean-floor,
And shows me the spot where my dearest
Was lost for evermore.