Classic Poem

Yea, after all these lingering lonely years,
These years while thou hast waited far away,
How great a thing, how sweet a thing appears,
That this sweet night with me thy soul doth stay,
And thou art tender, nor dost answer “Nay”
To the immemorial and untold desire
Denied through many a night and many a day;—
Now with redoubled passionate fierce fire
I wait thee, flinging from mine awestruck lyre
At length the glad sounds of a marriage hymn;
No more the words are tearful and aspire,
Now rather as a robe thine every limb,
Thine hair, thy lips, thy soul, thy perfect face,
They wrap themselves round swiftly, and embrace.