Classic Poem

Why is it then, the Earth and Sky,
The promise of returning Spring,
And all that greets the ear and eye
To this worn soul no joy can bring?

Has Life consumed itself? — O no!
It is not that — its currents run
No more apart — they only flow
Silent, intense, and deep in one.

Its source is here — what shores it laves,
Or whither rolls the impetuous tide,
Who knows? — Who knows what kindred waves
Claim tribute from its hope its pride?

But O! until they meet again
(Alas! how could they ever part?)
What chance — what change can calm the brain
What time — what thought can soothe the heart?

The Future? — Will not Hope deceive?
The Present? — O! it must not last!
And yet alas! how vain to grieve
Over the unreturning past!