Classic Poem

WHEREIN LAURA IS FOREVER A PRESENT APPARITION

If the lone bird lament or the green leaves
Shiver beneath the summer's soft caresses,
Or rapid streams flash from dark wildernesses
Churning the rock that with my sorrow grieves,
While Love his slow eternal elegy weaves,
Then, then I see her whom this blind earth presses!
Those eyes like wells of stars, those golden tresses,
That voice like tears, that silver breast which heaves:
" Unhappy soul, why weep? Ah why, sad lover,
Thus, thus with anguish and remorse devour
Your splendid manhood in its perfect flower?
Let light and warmth its radiance recover:
Bewail me not: the brightness that seemed over
Has burst into one white perpetual hour! "