Classic Poem

A LONG the grassy slope I sit,
And dream of other years;
My heart is full of soft regrets,
Mine eyes of tender tears!

The wild bees hummed about the spot,
The sheep-bells tinkled far,
Last year when Alice sat with me,
Beneath the evening star!

The same sweet star is o'er me now,
Around, the same soft hours,
But Alice moulders in the dust
With all the last year's flowers!

I sit alone, and only hear
The wild bees on the steep,
And distant bells that seem to float
From out the folds of Sleep!