Classic Poem

One perfect night, when June lay wrapped in bloom,
I strolled among the paths of Pere la Chaise,
And, by the cloudless moon's phantasmal rays,
Read the old names on many a grass-wreathed tomb.

Strange moods had lured me to this hallowed gloom,
And, urged by unknown powers that burn and craze,
Happy above all men, I sought its ways,
To find, for thoughts exultant, air and room.

I did not dare confide to mortal ear
The new, sweet bliss that through my spirit spread,
Nor murmur it in prayer to God above; —
But I could tell my secret without fear
To those I pity, the forgotten dead,
Who have not seen the miracle I love!