Classic Poem

Full of the fever of a hopeless love,
My heart's wild worship still is all thine own:
Unchanged—unchangeable—though doomed to move
O'er life's dim waste alone.

Ah! all too deep for words of mortal breath,
My lonely love is one perpetual smart;
Fain would I woo the quiet sleep of death
For this unquiet heart!

'Tis death to see thee in thy joyousness—
To meet thine eye, the smile upon thy lips,
And feel this world a blighted wilderness,
And life a vast eclipse!

So sad and weary! I would ask no more
Than on thy breast to breathe my latest sigh;
Like some worn wave that seeks a peaceful shore,
On which to break and die.