Classic Poem

O'er the sea the moon is trailing
Her silver glory wan.
A little boat comes sailing:
Two lovers sit alone.

“How pale thy cheek is growing,
Beloved and most dear!”—
“I hear the splash of rowing;
My father follows near.”

“Then swim we for our life now,
Beloved and most dear!”—
“His raging cries, at strife now
With his curses, I can hear.”

“Hold up thy head more boldly,
Beloved and most dear!”—
“Alas! the waves so coldly
Are thundering in my ear.”

“The water surges over,
And leaden are my feet!”—
“Oh, even death, beloved,
Must in thine arms be sweet!”