Classic Poem

Her bright soul burn'd in her fathomless eye,
Like a silver star in the morning sky,
And my heart all tired of life's lone night
Like a bird sang songs to morning-light.

As soft as the passion of flowers for dew,
As wild as a wave when tempests woo,
As high as a lark's flight up the blue,
As fair and pure and sweet as you,
As you, as you, as you.

O, exquisite rare, O, past compare
Was that young star-soul shining there,
In an eye that gleam'd dark-bright like dawn,
When dews first sparkle on the lawn.