Classic Poem

With my fair love far away
grieved is my heart, yet

a beloved I have, though far away;
bright is my heart.

Tears abound in this veil of sorrow,
How boast of it?

Until that far off day
that sees my love return
I'll go on, quietly smiling.

This vain body, cast in the mire,
shall bloom and wither
on the road she travels.

Granted but a glimpse of the one I adore,
not even the swift withering should I grieve . . .
Fair star!
There in the dark night sky.