Classic Poem

Your diamonds on my finger glisten,
Still, in the dull, forsaken room;
Alone with thoughts of you, I listen
To the rain sobbing through the gloom.

But what soft wandering light is this
Comes flooding to a ruddier glow
The warm remembrances of bliss
Your diamonds on my finger know,

When, heart to heart, we lay and listened,
And, where the tedious gaslight rests,
Your diamonds on my finger glistened
In the white hollow of your breasts?