Classic Poem

It was a mighty monarch's child,
Her cheek was pale, her eye was wild;
Beneath a linden's shade I press'd
The maiden to my panting breast.

" I will not have thy father's throne,
I will not have his golden crown,
I will not have his realm so wide,
I will have thee, and nought beside. "

" That cannot be, " the maiden said,
" Because I am already dead;
And but by night the sods above
I burst for thee, and thy dear love. "