Classic Poem

If I must ever cease this tide of passionate dreaming,—
If there should come a day, when never more the gleaming
Of thy star-eyes may be,—
If I lose by the banks of very death's dark river
Thee my last hope of all, and watch with ghastly shiver
All sunlight fade out of the air and sea:—

If I must lose thee— thee my flower so pure and tender
Who gatherest into one all past bright blossoms' splendour—
If I must give up thee,—
Why then all prayer must cease, save only this one bitter
Wild cry—could any wild heart-broken words be fitter?—
“God help me,—and have mercy upon me!”