Classic Poem

Laugh not, nor weep; but let thine eyes
Grow soft and dim, (so love should be);
And be thy breathing tender, quick,
And tremulous, whilst I gaze on thee.

And let thy words be few or none;
But murmurs, such as soothe the air
In summer when the day is done,
Be heard, sweet heart, when I am there.

And I — oh! I, in those soft times
When all around is still and sweet,
Will love thee more a thousand times
Than if the world was at thy feet!