Classic Poem

Where is my Beloved gone?—
—That she could forget
How our hearts are left alone,—
How our tears are wet?

‘Never could she seek so far
But her heart was near;
And her troth a guiding star,
Even there as here!’

Who can show the path to her?
‘Ah, poor hearts astray,
Ye must rise and go to her
By the selfsame way.

‘Leave your dark of yesterday,—
Would you understand:
Cast the trembling selves away,
Would you touch her hand.

‘Oh, the path is clear to sight,
And the speech thereof;—
All her ways are ways of light;
And her words are love.’