Classic Poem

Behold , behold me, whether thou
Art dwelling with the Shades below
Or with the Gods above:
With thee were even the Gods more blest . .
I wish I could but share thy rest
As once I shared thy love.

'Twas in this garden where I lean
Against thy tombstone, once the scene
Of more than mortal bliss,
That loiter'd our Ternissa; sure
She left me that her love was pure;
It gave not kiss for kiss.

Faint was the blush that overspred
Thro' loosen'd hair her dying head;
One name she utter'd, one
She sigh'd and wept at; so wilt thou,
If any sorrows reach thee now . .
'Twas not Leontion .

Wert thou on earth thou wouldst not chide
The gush of tears I could not hide
Who ne'er hid aught from thee.
Willing thou wentest on the way
She went . . and am I doom'd to stay?
No; we soon meet, all three.

The flowers she cherisht I will tend,
Nor gather, but above them bend
And think they breathe her breath.
Ah, happy flowers! ye little know
Your youthful nurse lies close below,
Close as in life in death.