Classic Poem

ON BEING FORBIDDEN BY MY DOCTOR TO WRITE .

I MAY not woo thy smile, they say,
My sweet and pleasant friend;
Yet thou to life, my tuneful fay,
Could sweet enchantment lend.
And though I at the stern command
Must part from thee awhile,
In love I bow and kiss thy hand,
And beg thee yet to smile.

Come yet again on angel wings,
And wake the silent lyre;
Thy touch upon the silver strings
Can set my soul on fire.
Again the voices, old and dear,
Will whisper in my brain,
And on the desert wild and drear,
Will roses bloom again.

Come midst thy darkness with a ray
Of fair celestial light,
Give joy and gladness in the day,
And songs give in the night.
Come with a sad and solemn psalm,
Or thrilling songs of joy,
Thou comest always with the balm
And bliss that cannot cloy.

A prisoner alone am I,
Who fain would break the bars,
With thee in glorious liberty
To soar up to the stars;
With thee to climb each blessed height
For which mine eyes I strain,
And linked with thee I'd bravely fight
Life's battles o'er again.

And when thy Promethean spark
May on mine altar burn,
I, like a liberated lark,
Will sing thy glad return,
Again the voices, old and dear,
Will banish care and pain,
And on the desert, wild and drear,
Will roses bloom again.