Classic Poem

Oh, why are we sunder'd so soon in our summer,
Ere trees find their blossoms all dry from the storm,
And the lark sings her earliest song o'er the uplands
Ere clotes are in bloom, or the streams are full warm?
Oh, why are we sunder'd so soon in our summer,
Ere mown hay is sweet by the path of your feet?

Full fair among fairest of things I have seen you,
And here on the rock by, the old castle wall,
While the light shot on ivy and clear waves below you,
Ere leaves floated down them all sear'd by the fall.
Oh, why are we sunder'd so soon in our summer,
While summer is bright, but not come to a height?

Or up by the door-porch, forthlooking at sunset,
And smiling with thoughts of your all hopeful mind,
While the rosebuds beside you out-open'd in stillness
Their sweetness and hues, with the woodbine intwin'd.
Oh, why are we sunder'd so soon in our summer,
While boughs are behung with their rosebuds so young?

Or else at the slope by the oaks, newly leafing,
With larks whistling o'er you, I oft saw you pass,
While the ground-sweeping wind flitting playfully by you
Enliven'd your way with the quivering grass.
Oh, why are we sunder'd so soon in our summer,
Our life summer bright, but not come to its height?