Classic Poem

To Hope, that brightest star of Love,
I bid a sorrowful farewell,
For here within this silent grove,
As solemn tolls the evening bell,
I'll mourn his loss and sing his knell.

Or on some moss-grown turf repose,
The dewy light of morn to hail,
Where echoes oft repeat my woes,
As sadly sighs the balmy gale,
To hear my lover's funeral knell.

Spirits! if e'er you wander near
My love's unhallow'd grassy bed,
O bear this soul impassion'd tear,
To grace the relics of the dead;
And say that here you saw me dwell,
To weep and sing his funeral knell.