Classic Poem

I LOOK far-off across the blue,
Still distance vague with woods and Spring—
The Earth is sweet with buds and dew;
The birds their early carols sing.

I look, and somehow wish the hours
Held calm and sun and bloom alone:
No fallen leaves, no wither'd flowers,
No storm, no wreck, no mist, no moan;

No painted palms of air on sand,
No poisons where the spice-winds blow,
No dark shapes haunting sea and land—
But wherefore am I dreaming so?

It is because this music swells
Across the lighted April day—
Because I hear your bridal bells,
Fair girl, a thousand miles away.

Yes, lovely in a holy place,
Enchanted by my dream you rise:
The young blush-roses on your face,
The timid darkness in your eyes.

And, golden on your hand, I see
The glitter of a sacred thing:
I wish some Fairy, friend, may be
Slave of the ring—your wedding ring!