Classic Poem

On one wild day when rain swirled round in showers,
I dreamed that thou wast dead:
That wandering grass and dreary grave-side flowers
Circled thy dear dark head.

I stretched out arms my vanished love to reach
And groaned in wild despair:
Then sank back into calm beyond all speech,
Seeing that thou wast there.


And yet another dream and weird I had,
And it was pain to me.—
It seemed that women loved me. Was I glad?
Nay, I looked round for thee!

Strange is it when one love so holds the heart,
So maddens with its spell,
That other love would carry hate's own dart,—
Would be not heaven, but hell.