Classic Poem

It is a solitary land,
Now thou art gone I feel it more,
My destiny is strangely planned:
Will sorrow haunt me evermore?
The hanging woods, their solemn charms
Attract me not, the sobbing sea
Calls forth my woe, my empty arms
Are stretched for ever unto thee.

I sigh thy name unto the star
That lights the last decline of day;
A mournful voice comes from afar,
" Thy Love hears not, he's far away."
Itell the flowers about my Love,
I prattle of him to the streams,
My prayers ascend for him above,
My spirit flies to him in dreams.

The lonely sun's come forth and set
Upon this melancholy land,
And Hope puts in his tiny " Yet"
E'en when Despair hath ta'en his stand.
The hanging woods, their solemn charms
Attract me not, the sobbing sea
Calls forth my woe, my empty arms
Are stretched for ever unto thee.