Classic Poem

‘Helen!’ I say . . . no more . . . not any more.
And she looks on me with a loving grace
Caught from the saintly spiritual shore,
Yet possible only on a perfect face.
‘My lord, my life, my soul, whom I adore . . .
We have been separate long . . . time flies apace:
And very weary is the tomb to me,
The world to you. Now how shall this thing be?