Classic Poem

He whose soul from sorrow dreary,
Weak and wretched, naught can save,
Who in sadness, sick and weary,
Hopes no refuge but the grave;
On his visage Pleasure beaming
Ne'er shall shed her placid ray,
Till kind fate, from woe redeeming,
Leads him to his latest day.

Thou this life preservest ever,
My distress and my delight!
And, though soul and body sever,
Still I 'll live a spirit bright;
In my breast the heart that 's kindled
Death's dread strength can ne'er destroy,
Sure the soul with thine that 's mingled
Must immortal life enjoy.

That inspired by breath from heaven
Need not shrink a mortal doom,
To thee shall my vows be given
In this world and that to come.
My fond shade shall constant trace thee,
And attend in friendly guise,
Still surround thee, still embrace thee,
Catch thy thoughts, thy looks, thy sighs.

To divine its secret pondering,
Close to clasp thy soul 't will brave,
And if chance shall find thee wandering
Heedless near my silent grave,
E'en my ashes then shall tremble,
Thy approach relume their fire,
And that stone in dust shall crumble,
Covering what can ne'er expire!