Classic Poem

I know a lofty lady,
And she is wondrous fair;
She hath wrought my soul to music
As the leaves are wrought by air;
And like the air that wakes
The foliage into play,
She feels no thrill of all she makes
When she has passed away.

I know a lofty lady
Who seldom looks on me,
Or when she smiles, her smile is like
The moon's upon the sea.
As proudly and serene
She shines from her domain,
Till my spirit heaves beneath her mien,
And floods my aching brain.

I know a lofty lady: —
But I would not wake her scorn
By telling all the love I bear,
For I am lowly born;
So low, and she so high —
And the space between us spread
Makes me but as the weeds that lie
Beneath her stately tread.