Classic Poem

Soft as yon silver ray that sleeps
Upon the ocean's trembling tide;
Soft as the air that lightly sweeps
Yon sail, that swells in stately pride;

Soft as the surge's stealing note
That dies along the distant shores,
Or warbled strain that sinks remote—
So soft the sigh my bosom pours!

True as the wave to Cynthia's ray,
True as the vessel to the breeze,
True as the soul to music's sway
Or music to Venetian seas;

Soft as yon silver beams that sleep
Upon the ocean's trembling breast;
So soft, so true, fond love shall weep,
So soft, so true, with thee shall rest.