Classic Poem

" Over the river
In gloaming, ah, still do ye plain?
Dove — dove in the mangroves,
How dear is thy pain!

" Sorrow — but fondled;
Reproaches that never upbraid
Spite the passion, the yearning
Of love unrepaid.

" Teach me, oh! teach me
Thy cadence, that Inez may thrill
With the bliss of the sadness,
And love have his will!"

Through twilight of mild evening pale,
As now returning slow they fare —
In dubious keeping with the dale
And legends, floating came that air
From one invisible in shade,
Singing and lightly sauntering on
Toward the cloisters. Pause they made;
But he a lateral way had won:
Viewless he passed, as might a wave
Rippling, which doth a frigate lave
At anchor in the midnight road.

Clarel a fleeting thought bestowed:
Unkenned! to thee what thoughts belong —
Announced by such a tropic song.