Classic Poem

I do your watching, sweet, and mine besides;—
I bear for you the burden of the years;
If e'er your tender face is wet with tears,
Adown my own an answering teardrop glides.
Your sorrow through my veins in swift true tides
Pulses along; your doubts and pangs and fears
Are my doubts also and my pains;—what clears
Your own horizon, hope for me provides.

You watch within the garden; teardrops fall
Upon the leaves and flowers,—I am this rose
Whose petals your soft tears do discompose;
In my red perfumed cup I gather all:
I watch with you, a true flower, through the night,
Sharing all sorrow,—as I share delight.