Classic Poem

Wilt thou forsake me who in life's bright May
Lent warmer lustre to the radiant morn;
And even o'er Summer scenes by tempests torn,
Shed with illusive light the dewy ray
Of pensive pleasure? — Wilt thou, while the day
Of saddening Autumn closes, as I mourn
In languid, hopeless sorrow, far away
Bend thy soft step, and never more return? —
Crush'd to the earth, by bitterest anguish prest,
From my faint eyes thy graceful form recedes;
Thou canst not heal an heart like mine that bleeds;
But, when in quiet earth that heart shall rest,
Haply may'st thou one sorrowing vigil keep,
Where Pity and Remembrance bend and weep!