Classic Poem

Nay , sweet, one moment more, thy lips, mayhap,
Will soothe this heavy aching in my brows—
Stay, while the twilight in the dusky boughs
Sits smiling with the moon upon her lap.

And dost thou kiss me to be free to go?
How royally the purple shadows sway
Across the gorgeous chamber of dead day;
Now pr'ythee, stay, while they are shining so.

That kiss has made me better—I shall be
Quite well anon—nay gentle Romeo.
I hear the vesper-chanting, soft and low—
When the last echo dies thou shalt be free.

Could that have been the owlet's cry? the light
Is scarcely faded from the hill-tops yet,
'T is not a half hour since the sun was set;
Wait dear one, for the dim concealing night.

The bell is striking; hark! 't is only nine,
I counted truly, love, it was not ten—
Would you be falsest of all faithless men,
And leave me in the lonely night to pine?

I hear the watch-dog baying at the moon.
And hear the noisy cock crow loud and long—
He cannot cheat me with his shrilly song—
I know the midnight has not come so soon.

What ruddy streaks are running up the sky—
Is that the lark that past the turret flies!
Ah me, 't is morning's golden-lided eyes
Peeping above the hills; so, sweet, good-by!