Classic Poem

Ah yes, sweet love, look out, look up,
It is the dreary air of morn,
Too chill for this dress thou hast worn
For lighted rooms, and dance, and cup:
It is the star which leads the day,
It is the day low in the east,
O darling, I can never say
Those words to thee and then have ceased—
Good-bye, good-bye!

A light is dim within thy room,
Its air is sweet and warm with thee,
Why came we out here where the sea
Can break our hearts with that dread boom?
Thy face is pale that leans on me,
Lifted against the morning star;
Thy white arms hold me tremblingly
From speech that bears me from them far—
Good-bye, good-bye!

A wind comes inland through the dark,
Damp, chill from off the tossing waves,
From watery leagues 'neath which the graves
Of men are made, and have no mark.
Thy arms draw tighter round my neck,
I kiss thy face that lifts to me,
Thy lips that quiver, dreaming wreck,
Good-bye, my own, God cherish thee—
Good-bye, Good-bye!