Classic Poem

I WANDERED in a visionary field:
Lilacs were purpling out, the ousel, fleet,
Plunged in the rainy brook; the air was sweet
With sprouting beech buds; and the full moon sealed
The red-leaved book of evening with pure white;
The golden falling of a bridal night
Were scarcely to a lover's eyes so fair —
And yet my thoughts clung, bat-like, to despair.

I would not see the green and pleasant grass,
But willows dim and cypresses instead;
I said they made me sad, and sighed, Alas!
And said, Another year I should be dead,
And rest from labor and be done with care —
That the May moon would wrap my grave with light;
And picking in my lap the daisies white,
I braided such a crown as corpses wear.

Walking the visionary meadow o'er,
My wreath upon my arm, and sighing so,
And praying to be dead, the day-break snow
Blushed red as any rose: Come, Isadore —
In the dim rainy East an hour agone
The sun was travelling; wake, I pray thee, sweet!
One kiss before we part, perhaps to meet
Next in eternity. " My dream went on
The same sad way when I was wide awake,
And still through all the days and nights I sigh,
And try to make my heart believe that I
Am grieved for anything but love's sweet sake.