Classic Poem

I could go to some far island of the moon,
But never would I be lonely;
For have I not the thought of my beloved,
My beloved with dove-soft eyes
And lips like a young rose?

Oh, fair is he whom I love,
Whiter than the sea-foam,
And his breast is softer than falling snow-flakes.

I could go to some far island of the moon,
But never could I be lonely,
For I have the thought of my beloved, —
My beloved with dove-soft eyes
And fairer than an April morning!