Classic Poem

A nimbus doth thy form exhale,
Like that which, in the days of old,
Each god and goddess did infold;
Its light surrounds thee like a veil;

It draws me to thee from afar;
I am the needle, thou the pole;
Thou art my yearning spirit's goal —
Alpha, the bright and guiding star.

Thou art my yearning spirit's goal;
Thy face for all my ills is balm;
Thy voice, thy hand, alone, can calm
The perturbations of my soul

I seek the crowded city's press,
Still dost thou haunt me, beauteous shape;
I slumber, but can ne'er escape
The glamour of thy loveliness.

My eyes see naught — below — above —
But thee; I hear naught but thy voice;
Sweet nymph, I love thee not from choice;
Because I cannot help, I love.

And would I put thee from me even
The plaudits of the wise to earn?
Ah, does a mortal backward turn
When open stand the gates of Heaven?

O Love; thou, thou alone art life!
Without thy blisses earth would be
A charmless desert; but with thee
Sweet Paradises here are rife.