Classic Poem

AH , happy-hearted bird,
Full-throated minstrel, shaking all the air
With golden ripples of thy passions pleading;
I tell thee true, my lady is not heeding;
She lies asleep, within her window there;
Good sooth—thou art not heard.
Thou living memory of her kindly care,
The small white hand, which once had gifts to share,
Will never hold forth morsels for thy feeding
In sad hereafter days;
Nor pluck the roses by her lattice creeping.
So slow the curtain sways,
Not strange, it seemeth now, she should be sleeping;
So soft the sweet air strays,
So fair she lies.
And in her room the Silences are keeping
A watch upon her eyes,
And with forgetful balm their light-lids steeping
Lest she should wake and rise.
The roses she last gathered, now, are weeping
Upon my lady's breast;
Close to the foam-like laces of her gown,
Their silent lips are pressed,
And drops of dew, like fragrant tears, slip down
Between the moveless snowy billows there
Which heave no more, for rapture, nor despair.

Nor storm nor sunshine, rain, nor falling dew,
Nor stirring leaves, nor voice of friend or foe,
Nor surge of all the worlds, shall enter through
The stillness guarding now that slumberer fair;
Whose heart knows now no guest,
Nor any ray nor shadow, weal, nor woe.

Cease, cease thy song, sweet bird, far hence, fly thou;
Where Nature keeps
Her June-day revel, in fair fields new drest;
Thy mate awaits thee there;
There Summer spreads her dappled robes anew;
There bends, with snowy crest,
The pliant elder, where the sweet winds blow;
There hangs thy nest
Amidst the leafage, on some swaying bough;
There haply thou, love-blest,
Mayst soon forget:—farewell—she marks not now;
Thou canst not break the calm which wraps her brow:
My lady sleeps,
At rest! At rest! At rest!!!