Classic Poem

The Seer, did he mark in vain
Thy natal star arise,
Set with the sadly shrouded light
Of thy soft azure eyes?
Those eyes, whose glance had caught above
Unuttered eloquence of love.

The Poet, did he wreathe in vain
Thy gentle brow with flowers,
Fled with thy cheek of softer bloom
From this dark path of ours?
Those flowers but tell, beside the spot,
The bloom the grave surrenders not.

The spell is broke, yet not in vain
That augury was given,
For thou hast won thy crown; thy star
Hath melted into Heaven,
Yet left to cheer us as it fled
The gentle memory of the dead.