Classic Poem

Tempt me no more; — thy tones are sweet and deep,
Yet they fall vainly on my weary cars:
Pass on, and leave me here to dream and weep,
Counting the footfalls of the lonesome years; —
Tempt me no more!

My wreath of life holds no fresh bloom for thee, —
Its flowers are strewn on unforgotten graves, —
Only its withered leaves remain to me,
And they drift darkly toward death's wintry waves: —
Tempt me no more.

Gather not rose-leaves trampled in the dust:
No kindness can their wasted bloom renew.
Go, let them die unheeded, as they must;
Seek thou for blossoms fresh and bright with dew; —
Tempt me no more!