Classic Poem

Love they alone the joyful heart
The night wind & the leaf? —
That when we are sick with an evil smart
They whisper nought but grief.

I thought in my young days to find
Relief for breast & brow:
In the mere breathing of the wind,
And swaying of the bough.

But now, with no remorseful calm,
I look where dead men rest,
Half jealous of that pallid balm
Which sleeps on brow & breast.