Classic Poem

Not mine from thee, loved heart, to feel such tide
As this mine own doth pour thee;
Still shall I not go all unsatisfied:
Enough that I adore thee.

And if thou never wakest to my song,
Not weakly shall it falter;
Proudly I pace Love's lonely courts along
Unto their inmost altar.

Ah, some day, if, within thy pleasant sleep,
Faint echoes of me find thee,
White heart, may dreams be not too fair or deep
Or soothing to unbind thee!

Perchance even then, responding to that sound,
Thou 'lt hail and overtake me,
Clearing the idle distance at a bound. . . .
My song must not forsake me!