Classic Poem

If I could do some great high thing for thee
As Christ did for the world,—could slowly bleed
To death that thou mightst gladdened be or freed,—
If I could change my heart-throbs to a sea
And every wave of life thy wave might be
And every act of life a loving deed
And every word a prayer to intercede,—
I should be then content eternally.

But I can do so little: just a song,
A wreath of words, I bring thee,—when I pine
To crown thee with my very being's breath.
Some music here and there in just a line
Of verse or two I bring thee when I long
To give thee love so deep it mocks at death.