Classic Poem

This is the place where he brought her home,
Home, — but not to his heart, I know:
For it cannot be but her memories roam
To the first and the true love, long ago!
Noble, and lovely, and wretched bride,
Doomed, in her gorgeous palace of stone,
Loveless forever, to sit by his side,
And yet be, for ever and ever, alone!

Noble and beautiful spirit of love!
Well, I can wish you were happy, — though
I stand out here, while the stars above
Are as white and cold as the ground below.
I am glad that the splendor is all your own;
I do not desire it — ah, not I!
But am well content, at the foot of your throne,
To sink in the frozen street and die.

Perhaps you would see me, then, — who knows?
Perhaps you would see, in my haggard face,
Whence they have risen, — your subtle woes,
And the something that saddens your stately grace.
Perhaps, — ah me, I am bold, indeed! —
Perhaps you would touch me! Heart and brain!
I am sure it would make the old wound bleed,
If it did not wake me to life again!

Lost, — but I love you, all the same:
'Twas a faithful heart that you threw away:
I can say it now, and with nothing of shame,
For I shall not live to another day.
I can say, though the night of grief was long,
That the light of morning struggles through;
And, lifted out of my sorrow and wrong,
If I cannot live, I can die for you!