Classic Poem

Oh , wert thou but beside me now,
Yon cold and cheerless moon would be
A high and purely passing brow,
That I should joy to watch with thee.

With thee to smile, with thee to cheer,
To soothe and bless my struggling heart,
This weary night would disappear,
For all is happy where thou art.

A thousand promised joys should rise,
In thought and memory, blessing still;
And from thy bright, yet dewy eyes,
The fountains of mine own should fill.

And that dear pledge! — to me how dear,
Since first its budding lips became
A smile to charm, a tone to cheer
Each trembling feeling of my frame: —

Around my neck her clasping hands
Like blooming tendrils round the tree,
A festive wreath of freshest bands
That hide the roughness none should see.

To mark her growth, and, day by day,
Behold her infant mind unclose,
To trim the light, protect the ray,
Defend the bud and love the rose.

Month after month and year by year,
To trace her being's rapid growth,
A father's joy, a mother's care,
The blessing and the pride of both.

Ah! more than sweet is every dream
My fond and fervent fancy brings —
A wooing breath, a winning gleam
Of pure and most delightful things.

Fair images that seen before,
Like angel memories will not part,
And hold their kind dominion o'er
My weary and o'erburden'd heart.

Oh, come to me, for when thou'rt gone,
My spirit sad, nor longer free,
Finds nature dull, and cities lone,
And looks in vain, and weeps for thee.