Classic Poem

Love, whom in dreams I nightly greet,
Whose answering smile I see;
Weeping I fall at thy dear feet,
And tell my woe to thee.

Thou look'st on me with sad surmise,
Thy fair head gently shaking;
The tear-drop pearls within thine eyes
Are gathering slow, and breaking.

Thou giv'st a spray of cypress-tree,
Thou whisperest one word lowly.
I wake, and the cypress no more I see,
And the word is forgotten wholly.