Classic Poem

Weave no more the marriage chain!
All unmated is the lover;
Death has ta'en the place of Pain;
Love doth call on love in vain:
Life and years of hope are over!

No more want of marriage bell!
No more need of bridal favour!
Where is she to wear them well?
You, beside the lover, tell!
Gone—with all the love he gave her!

Paler than the stone she lies:
Colder than the winter's morning!
Wherefore did she thus despise
(She with pity in her eyes)
Mother's care, and lover's warning?

Youth and beauty—shall they not
Last beyond a brief to-morrow?
No: a prayer and then forgot!
This the truest lover's lot;
This the sum of human sorrow!