Classic Poem

I.

I CAN NOT tell what coming years
May have, reserved, of grief for me;
I can not tell what they may be —
How rung with anguish, dimmed with tears:

II.

But scarcely can a sadder morn
Than this upon mine eyelids break,
When from a flattering dream I wake
On a reality forlorn.

III.

For never from thine ivory gate,
O Sleep, a falser dream was sent
Than unto me brief gladness lent,
To leave me sorrow's trustier mate.

IV.

We wandered freely as of yore,
And in my hand I felt the grasp
Of that small hand, whose tender clasp
I shall not feel, oh! any more:

V.

We wandered through the peopled towns,
And where we came I heard men praise
His gracious looks, his winning ways —
We wandered o'er the lonely downs:

VI.

And ever held familiar talk
As we passed onward, I and he —
Who was companion true to me
At home, and in long woodland walk:

VII.

Gone was the agony, the fear,
And all the dreadful gulf between
What we are now and what have been,
The vault, the coffin, and the bier.

VIII.

I start — and lo! my dream is not:
But though 'tis round me thickest gloom,
Yet in the corner of the room
I know there stands a vacant cot

IX.

I close mine eyes — I strive again
To feed upon that poor delight:
The broken links to reunite
Once more of slumber's golden chain.

X.

Lost effort! — Sleep, oh! twice untrue,
What need to bring that fond deceit?
And then, when I allow the cheat,
To flee, while vainly I pursue?