Classic Poem

The sun beats at thy lattice, ‘Rise, dear maiden,
'Tis time to love,’ saith he; ‘do I not make thee
Long for the breeze with violet perfumes laden,
Have I not bid the roses sing to wake thee?
April and May I bring from my resplendent
Kingdom to be on thee, their Queen, attendant,
And the new year lingers to pay his duty
And homage to the charms of thy young beauty.’

The wind beats at thy lattice. ‘O'er the ocean,
O'er hill and plain,’ saith he, ‘where'er I travelled
The world to-day throbbed with but one emotion,
Living and dead in but one thought have revelled.
The birds are singing and the bees are humming;
“Now let us love, love, love: for Spring is coming”;
And hark, the tombs decked with new flowers are sighing:
“Love, love, love while ye may; for Time is flying.”’

My thought beats at thy heart, which is a garden
Of lovely flowers, and asks one question only:
‘May I come in and rest?’ Oh, do not harden
Thy heart, for I am old and sad and lonely.
I yearn to rest amid those happy flowers,
Dreaming a bliss that never yet was ours:
I yearn to rest in peace and dream for ever
Of bliss which now may ne'er be mine—ah, never.