Classic Poem

Away with doleful maundering, away with fretful days,
Away with all that smacks of grief, of tears and banners furled,
An end to dull perplexities, an end to old dismays,
There is promise in her eyes — there is promise in the world.
Her mood is subtly changing; she has whispers for me now;
Her eyes meet mine more quickly, and more quickly leave my gaze.
Her heart perhaps has melted to a word somewhere, somehow —
And the thought of her surrender is a thing that heals and slays.

The thought of her surrender — can it be, this breathless dream —
Is it not a barren splendor, a rainbow of the mind;
Have I not been over-eager to discover in the gleam
Of friendly looks and casual smiles, all that I hoped to find ...
But away with vague imaginings, away with moon-struck Youth,
An end to maudlin fancies — this day I shall be free.
Is it Love she means or jesting, is it mockery or truth?
I shall mope and sigh no longer — I shall ask her, I shall see!