Classic Poem

On this bare ocean-islet,
While the slow waves softly play,
And the happy breeze sings by me,
I sit and sigh for day.

I am looking for the dawning,
For the first soft silver ray;
I am looking, looking, looking,
For the morning and the day.

'Mid the shadows and the silence
Of the lonely, lonely way,
I am longing, longing, longing,
For the morning and the day.

I mark the waning starlight,
And the gentle streaks of grey;
And I'm hoping, hoping, hoping,
For the morning and the day.

The pale pure light is springing,
The darkness steals away;
And I'm watching, watching, watching,
For the morning and the day.

Shall I close my eyes in slumber,
Shall I dream the hours away;
When I'm waiting, waiting, waiting,
For the morning and the day?

Shall I cleave to shades and darkness,
To the chill of mortal clay;
When I'm waiting, waiting, waiting,
For the morning and the day?

Shall I love earth's blazing torches,
Its lamps of midnight gay;
When I know that they are coming, —
The morning and the day?