Classic Poem

The Fair-one is no more: — her spirit fled
With sudden wing, that up to Heaven's abode
Hath risen, — for well on Earth she knew the road,
Explor'd it well — by Faith and Virtue led.
The hour is come: — in vain the tears were shed
That passion cherish'd; — parted is the load
Of restless thoughts on frantic themes bestow'd;
That sunk and weigh'd me down, with drooping head,
And spirits faint. — Where she is gone before,
'Tis mine to follow — and the shortest way;
Clad, as the Pilgrim, that, with staff in hand,
Behind him thrown his little wallet bore,
The soul redeem'd shall to the Realms of day
Ascending, cleave the air, and spurn the land.