Classic Poem

From far beyond my death I seem now to regard thee:
Earth's flowers and grass, earth's hills and streams, for thee!
The sweet earth seems to have seized thy soul, and closed and barred thee
For evermore from me.

I seem to feel the breath of sacred death flow round me:
The breath of August blossoms floats round thee
Not thine hands, not thine hands to-day have loved and crowned me;
Only the stars and sea

The breath of death is sweet, but oh! thy love is sweeter,
Thou art more fair, O love,—I moan for thee.
In this strange land I faint. Wilt thou, than death's foot flecter,
Hasten, O love, to me?

Only the stars and waves, and the black night whose breathing
Is cold beside the passionate breath of thee!
Only the clouds and stars, the far white waters seething:
Only the stars and sea!