Classic Poem

L OVE'S S ONG

Sweet were those moments when the heart was gay,
And the soul's realm, the court of joy's array:
Thoughts of those times now o'er my spirit stray,
For love of God! O Heavens! mercy! pray!
The pride of both the day and night was I.

A garden fair was that my soul's repose;
Like those in Eden's bower, its every rose;
But parting comes and all of that o'erthrows,
Now in my heart nought but its mem'ry glows.
With honor's wine then drunken quite was I.

Then to the Sphere I never uttered prayer;
Feast, music, and delight — all mine — were there;
Moved ever by my side my Cypress fair;
Unopened then my secret and despair.
The envy of the springtide bright was I.

Now before grief and woe I'm fallen prone;
Like nightingale in early spring, I moan.
Through fire I've past and to the shore have flown.
And, like the shattered glass, to earth am thrown.
Sipping the wine, the fair's despite, was I.

Ah me! alas! those happy hours are past;
The spring is past; the rose, the flowers, are past;
The smiles of her who graced the bowers are past;
The thirsty soul remains, the showers are past.
Drinking with her the wine so bright was I.

I with my loved one feast and banquet made,
Wild as the whirlpool then I romped and played;
At wine-feasts I myself in light arrayed,
And with my songs the nightingales dismayed.
Like G a lib, blest with all delight was I.