Classic Poem

'Twas summer eve, and I had wander'd
Where lofty trees o'erhang the wave,
That, rippling on its course, meander'd
By my Mary's early grave.
The pale moon o'er the scene presided,
And not a zephyr stirr'd the grove;
The hour, the stream that near me glided,
All brought to mind my buried love.

The last time I had wander'd hither,
Mary was warbling by my side—
Thou fairest flower! doom'd to wither
In youth and beauty's stainless pride:
I wept not o'er thy narrow dwelling,
With not one tear my cheek was wet—
But sorrow in my breast was swelling,
Voiceless and leep was my regret.

I travell'd back, on Memory's pinion,
To far-fled hours of rich delight,
Ere the wand of Grief's dominion
Had smote my heart with chilling blight;
When Mary's eyes with love were beaming,
Life's sweetest odours round us spread—
Now yonder stone, in moonlight gleaming,
Points out my Mary's bridal bed!

Death came to ravish all her sweetness,
While I was on the ocean wave;
Our bark returning home with fleetness,
I sought my love—and found her grave!
And though her soul hath flown to heaven,
In grief my heart is shrouded yet;
The flower is gone that love had given—
The brightest star of life is set!