Classic Poem

There, in that spot, since hence it sped,
oft have I watch'd, wanting that gem
that once was wont to vanquish woe,
and raise my hap and all my weal.
It doth but pierce my heart with pangs,
my breast in bale but boil and burn;
yet ne'er me seem'd so sweet a song
as that still hour let steal to me.
Yea, many a thought to me flow'd there,
musing its charm so clad in clay
O earth! thou marrest a merry theme,—
Pearl mine own, without a spot.