Classic Poem

Thou art asleep: thou dost not know me yet:
A stranger am I till the soul awakes.
The body has wide eyes, and it partakes
Of human cares—knows pity and regret,
Joy, sorrow, tenderness,—but firmly set,
Tight fastened are the eyelids of the soul.
It sleeps deep, deep within,—and swift months roll
Far past it,—but no day-dawn has been met.

I wait—in utter patience. Soul that sleepest,
When one fair tear shall show me that thou weepest,
These songs shall touch the closed lids of thine eyes:
And wet with that tear drawn from underneath
Those maiden lids, shall lift thee, as from death,
Saying—Thou hast slept long enough. Arise!