Classic Poem

When came the hour that faint love fell asleep,
I crept unto his side
And with both hands I drove the knife in deep —
And thus love died.

Then, far within a cypress forest's shade,
While no sun shone above,
With stealthy haste a secret grave I made,
And laid dead love.

Cold was he then, as winter snows are cold,
His throbbing pulses stilled;
Wan were his eyes that once had been so bold,
His warm heart chilled.

Aye, he was dead — quite dead! — but that same night
I learned what I had lost —
Trembling I woke, and there before my sight
Stood dead love's ghost!