Classic Poem

FLY on thou radiant phantasy!
Fly on! but I will follow thee
No more swift-shod with hope to make thee mine;
Thou hast outsped my strength; the chase is o'er
And my tired steps will press the dust of thine
No more, oh, nevermore!

Weave thy bright tresses with the wind,
Turn thy shy face and look behind;
Purse up thy ruddy mouth and stretch thine arms
As if thou wouldst my close embrace implore!
But I will pant to clasp thy phantom charms
No more, oh, nevermore!