Classic Poem

I.

Yes , — I will join the world again;
And mingle with the crowd;
And though my mirth may be but pain,
My laughter, wilderment of brain, —
At least it shall be loud!

II.

'Tis true, to bend before the shrine
Of heartless revelry,
Is slavery to a soul like mine;
Yet better thus in chains to pine,
Than ever crouch to thee!

III.

Ay, better far to steep the soul
In pleasure's sparkling tide;
Bid joy's unholy sounds controul
The maddening thoughts that o'er it roll,
Than wither 'neath thy pride.

IV.

Yet I have loved thee — ah, how well!
But words are wild and weak;
The depth of that pervading spell,
I dare not trust my tongue to tell, —
And hearts may never speak!

V.

The stubborn pride, none else might rein,
Hath stooped to love and thee;
But, as the pine upon the plain,
Bent by the blast, springs up again,
So shall it fare with me.

VI.

Still, whilst I darkly sojourn here,
Spite of each vain endeavour,
Thy name , through many a future year,
Will be the knell, to my lonely ear,
Of bliss — gone by for ever!

VII.

Though thou hast wrapped me in a cloud,
Nought now may e'er dispel,
In silentness my wrongs I'll shroud,
And love, reproach, pain, passion, crowd
Into one word — Farewell !

VIII.

'Tis done — the task of soul is taught;
At length I've burst the spell,
Which, round my heart so firmly wrought,
Fettered each loftier, nobler thought;
And now, Farewell — Farewell !