Classic Poem

Gone art thou? gone, and is the light of day
Still shining, is my hair not touched with grey?
But evening draweth nigh, I pass the door,
And see thee walking on the dim-lit shore.

Gone, art thou? gone, and weary on the brink
Of Lethe waiting there. O do not drink,
Drink not, forget not, wait a little while,
I shall be with thee; we again may smile.