Classic Poem

O cheerless and tenantless nest
Of a spirit which lately has fled,
How silently now dost thou rest
On the leaves which are blighted and dead,
And the bright yellow hues which thou caught'st from
Fade like light from the hills when the day is done.

Not thus wert thou wont at night
'Neath the sorrowing moon to bow,
For a tear-dash'd eye shone bright
From the face which is lustreless now,
And each weary petal would slowly fold
Which now spread open lie powerless and cold.

No more shalt thou greet the day
As it tenderly wakes thee from sleep,
No longer shalt merrily play
With the breezes which round thee creep
For the hand of one that no pity could move
Hath robbed thee of beauty, of life and of love.

O'er a tender leaf which peers
From the grass on the steep hill-side
The Spirit is shedding tears
For its flower which lately died,
But the leaf ere long 'neath that gentle rain
Shall give to the wand'rer a home again.