Classic Poem

I have come back, oh! first love, love to thee,
Behind thy trellised vine thy lute's soft tone
Speaks to my soul, — my fingers seek thine own, —
Oh! golden hearted, love-kissed Poesy.

I have come back, thy lowly one to be, —
Lend thou thine ear to hear my fretful moan;
I asked for bread, the hard world gave a stone, —
Cold was the pulse of life by land and sea.

I have come back, — breathe on my taper, love, —
The spark died not, it only smouldered low;
I could not keep the white flame free from doubt,
The sharp-toothed norther, cutting from without. —
But oh! let these, my tears, compassion move,
Bless thou my garment, — love me, ere I go!