Classic Poem

In dreams by night, in dreams by day,
Methinks I see thee still before me!
Methinks I hear the faltering voice
That whisper'd ‘Laura I adore thee!’

Alas! the rapid, conscious blush
Too soon proclaim'd what then befel me!
My downcast looks, my trembling frame,
Told much, much more than words could tell thee.

And art thou lost? for ever lost?—
Ah! how I wept when it was told me
That I must hear thy voice no more!
That I must never more behold thee!—

These fruitless tears will ever fall!
Even Hope refuses to deceive me.—
But the blank sadness that I feel,
I will not paint—for it would grieve thee.

Yet faithful memory oft shall bring
Thy tender words and looks to cheer me:
Still on her treasur'd hoards I'll live,
And my fond soul shall hover near thee!