Classic Poem

'T WAS half a life since, and the Christmas sun
That laved the leafless grove had ebbed away
To the last fiery wave: the air was dun,
Clouds gathered, burst, and earth all snow-wound lay.
From the hearth's glow unto the beaten pane
A maiden stepp'd; when sudden one drew rein,
And cried, “I come.” He deemed her bridal wreath
To twine of new-year snowdrops. When above
The mould they peered, she placid slept beneath.
Boast not thy triumph, Death; she passed—not love.
Still the same rider on a track doth fare
By sterner winters frozen, blanched and bare;
And still beyond the track he sees a home,
And whispers, as he journeys, “Love, I come!”