Classic Poem

I murmur not though hard the lot
To see another's that fond smile;
And feel myself all, all forgot,
And left to weep unseen the while.

I murmur not that thou canst give
Another joy so dear to me;
Though for that smile alone I live,
Am glad but while I look on thee.

I would not ask those eyes to turn,
And shed their light upon my woe;
To cool these throbbing veins that burn
With passion's hottest maddest flow.

I would not cause that gentle heart
A sigh of sorrow, shade of grief;
To bid this mountain weight depart,
And give my anguished soul relief.

Still may that bright and sunny brow
No shade of care or sorrow know;
Still beam those eyes as bright as now,
Though not on me their smile they throw.

I will not mourn though sad the weight,
The weary weight life brings to me ;
For thou shalt live with joy elate,
With cheek all bloom and heart all glee.

Those eyes another's love shall speak,
Those lips shall breathe another's name;
Yet vain in other's souls they seek
A purer love, a holier flame.

'Twill burn, when yon bright beaming star
With kindred light has ceased to glow,
As pure in yon blue heaven afar,
As in its earthly shrine below.