Classic Poem

When the long green grass waves o'er me,
And no summers are before me;
When the bitter wind's increase
In no wise disturbs my peace,
When the spring's sweet thrill, as once,
Wakes in me no quick response,
Will you, dear, in losing me,
Lose the bloom of sky and sea?

When the brown bee's busy hum
Does not reach me, cold and dumb;
When the scent of the wild rose
Breathes the sadness of repose,
Where no tender voice is heard,
Heart-sick sigh or whispered word;
When for me all seasons fail,
Will your love, sweet, still prevail?

Happier far the grave's seclusion,
Where your love may seek intrusion,
Than the summer's wasted sweetness
Barren of that love's completeness,
Mouldering underneath the sod,
Waiting on the will of God,
Heaven itself would yet seem near,
Should you drop there, sweet, a tear!