Classic Poem

" THE night-wind is moaning with mournful sigh,
" There gleameth no moon in the misty sky,
" No star over Helle's sea;
" Yet, yet, there is shining one holy light,
" One love-kindled star thro' the deep of night,
" To lead me, sweet Hero, to thee! "

Thus saying, he plunged in the foamy stream,
Still fixing his gaze on that distant beam
No eye but a lover's could see;
And still, as the surge swept over his head,
" To night, " he said tenderly, " living or dead,
" Sweet Hero, I'll rest with thee! "

But fiercer around him the wild waves speed;
Oh, Love! in that hour of thy votary's need,
Where, where could thy Spirit be?
He struggles — he sinks — while the hurricane's breath
Bears rudely away his last farewell in death —
" Sweet Hero, I die for thee! "