Classic Poem

At last in death I find thee,
And I am left below;
No mortal power could bind thee
To this dark land of woe:
In vain my teardrops flow
For thee, dead Imogene.

O thou art gone for ever,
In vain thy loss I grieve,
And in my bosom never
Can aught such loss retrieve,
Or joy its gloom relieve,
My pale, cold Imogene!

On some far steep of heaven,
Say, dost thou watch from there?
Or is it to thee given
To bear aloft my prayer,
And soothe my heart's despair,
Departed Imogene?