Classic Poem

All slumbered whom our rud red tiles°
Do cover from the starry spread,
When I with never-needed wiles
Crept trembling out of bed.
Then at the door what work there was, good lack,
To keep the loaded bolt from plunging back.

When this was done and I could look
I saw the stars like flash of fire.
My heart irregularly shook,
I cried with my desire.
I put the door to with the bolts unpinned,
Upon my forehead hit the burly wind.

No tumbler woke and shook the cot,
The rookery never stirred a wing,
At roost and rest they shifted not,
Blessed be everything.
And all within the house were sound as posts,
Or listening thought of linen-winded ghosts.

The stars are packed so thick to-night°
They seem to press and droop and stare,°
And gather in like hurdles bright°
The liberties of air.°
I spy the nearest daisies through the dark,
The air smells strong of sweetbriar in the park.

I knew the brook that parts in two
The cart road with a shallowy bed
Of small and sugar flints, I knew
The footway, Stephen said,
And where cold daffodils in April are
Think you want daffodils and follow as far°

As where the little hurling sound
To the point of silence in the air
Dies off in hyacinthed ground,
And I should find him there.
O heart, have done, you beat you beat so high,
You spoil the plot I find my true love by.