Classic Poem

And is this but a dream, my best?
And art thou not to stay with me?
And thou in smiling beauty dressed,
As thou wert always wont to be.

A clustering mass of golden brown
Falls o'er thy forehead high and fair;
A halo bright—a nobler crown—
Is shining on thy beauteous hair.

Serenity sits on thy brow,
And truth beams in thy clear glad eye;
All traits that nobleness avow
Do in each speaking feature vie.

Thirsting for wisdom's every rill
Long ere the down was on thy cheeks,
Thou fain would'st climb the towering hill
Where knowledge to her votaries speaks.

The mount was steep, and eager thou;
The labour wasted thy sweet breath,
Bright-gifted youth, alas! that thou
Art laid so low to sleep in death!

'Midst joys no earthly tongue can count,
A citizen thou art enrolled,
Where wisdom thou drink'st at the fount,
And knowledge all her gems unfold.

No prison-house of fragile clay
Now breaks the pinions of thy soul;
No trammelling to clog the way,
Or keep thee from thy glorious goal!

Then, Charlie, brother dearest, best!
I would not have thee stay with me;
Hie, hie, then to thy glorious rest,
And I will seek to follow thee!