Classic Poem

Oh for my love, my only love,
Oh for my lost love far away! —
Oh that the grass were green above
Her head or mine this weary day: —
The grass green in the morning grey.

She lies down in a foreign land
And in a foreign land doth rise.
I cannot hold her by the hand;
I cannot read her speaking eyes
That turned mere spoken words to lies.

This is the bough she leaned upon
And watched the rose deep western sky,
For the last sun rays almost gone:
I did not hear the wind pass by,
Nor stream; I only heard her sigh.

I saw the tears that did not fall,
I saw the blush upon her cheek,
The trembling hand so white and small:
She did not speak, I could not speak: —
Oh that strong love should make us weak.

Therefore we parted as we met,
She on her way, and I on mine.
I think her tender heart was set
On holier things and more Divine: —
We parted thus and gave no sign.

Oh that the grass were green above
Her head or mine; so I could pray
In certain faith for her my love,
Unchanging, all the night and day:
Most near altho' most far away.