Classic Poem

With my free hours, which were but few, at eve,
I well could find what I should do at eve,

For when no more kept out by calls of day
I turn'd me home while fell the dew at eve,

I, mateless, took my way through cooling air
Along the road that led to you at eve.

And there we saunter'd, whisp'ring kindly thoughts,
Or sat at rest beside the yew at eve,

Or else you sang by bow'rs or rosy walls,
Or in the grove where ring doves coo at eve,

Or near the stream with rippling water-waves,
Or by the knoll, where breezes blew at eve.

And sweet would seem that spot to one alone:
But sweeter then it seem'd to two at eve.