Classic Poem

The grey dawn flooded in the lonely room
That mourned your absence; on the western wall
The sallow shafts of sunbeams struck, to fall
As sadly as they would across a tomb;
A shadow in the corner was a plume
That night had dropped from off her sable pall;
A thorny rose stood leafless in the hall,
Your going thus had robbed it of its bloom.

The very pictures were aware of this
As silver-stoled and silent slowly came
The first reluctant messengers of Dawn;
Of all you are, and all you are to miss
Byron seemed speaking from his oval frame,
And Greek Aspasia whispered, " she is gone! "