Classic Poem

Oh! how could my heart so falsely gauge,
Singing that more than now I could not love thee!
Others, like me, may, at thy budding age,
Hold every feeling in sweet vassalage
Unto thy charms. But I — by all above me! —
Will prove thee suzerain of my soul more nearly;
When Time his arts shall 'gainst thy beauty wage,
To break their serfdom — serving thee more dearly.

Mark how the sunset, with its parting hues,
The heaving bosom of yon river staineth!
To yield those tints the grieving waves refuse,
Nor yet that purpling light at last will lose
Till Night itself, like Death, above them reigneth!
So more and more will brighten to the last
The light which, once upon my true soul cast,
Reflected there, still true till death remaineth.