Classic Poem

Oh Willie, Willie, Willie,
Slowly the hours have gone,
Since out in the twilight stilly,
We stood in the tall green corn.
The moon shot the tassels trackward,
And covered my hair with lace,
As you fondly smoothed it backward,
And gazed on my wan white face.

Oh Willie, Willie, Willie,
Whenever the sun goes down,
I turn to the distance hilly,
And sigh for the glad hours gone;
I think of the day you started,
Unnerved by a strange unrest,
Your hand on the rein half-hearted,
Your face to the wild wide west.

Stark are the stalks and husky,
The tassels are broken down,
The leaves in the twilight dusky
Move vaguely like ghosts in brown,
And ever with omens chilly
The heart in my breast is torn;
God send thee safe back, my Willie;
Willie, my own, my own.