Classic Poem

Long, in that realm of pain that is not woe—
The second, better kingdom of the dead
Through which the mighty Florentine was led—
Methought, like him, I travell'd from below,
With patient heart, but feeble steps and slow.
I pass'd the fiery fence, and reach'd the head
Of the steep mount, where, from twin fountains fed,
Lethe and Eunoe, diverse waters, flow.
Then, conscious of a presence at my side,
I turn'd and saw the face whence sweetness beams
And all things pure. ‘Oh, Madeline,’ I cried,
‘How have I sought thee, even in my dreams!’
‘I know thou hast been faithful,’ she replied,
‘Come, let me lead thee to the healing streams.’