Classic Poem

The moonlight, as a lover's lingering kiss
Falls on his placid brow. In tender gloom
The young, brown body glimmers from the tomb—
Dim as a fading star … Rest—rest it is;
And oh, if sleep be beautiful as this
What must the waking be! … No cares consume;
With him is youth eterne, undying bloom,
And thoughts unending of perennial bliss.
The lips are parting, and we feel the breath
A sweetness on the air … Will he arise
And touch again his Dorian flute? He seems
Some fair immortal form of alien skies
Abiding here,—a symbol, not of Death,
But Sleep irradiate with desired dreams.