Classic Poem

I DO not ask to offer thee
A timid love like mine;
I lay it, as the rose is laid
On some immortal shrine.

I have no hope in loving thee,
I only ask to love;
I brood upon my silent heart,
As on its nest the dove.

But little have I been beloved,
Sad, silent, and alone:
And yet I feel, in loving thee,
The wide world is mine own.

Thine is the name I breathe to Heaven,
Thy face is on my sleep;
I only ask that love like this
May pray for thee and weep.