Classic Poem

I sigh with the wind like a storm stricken tree
And could weep with the morning but find not a tear
For love is inconstant like the ebb o' the sea
And all things are false which I look on or hear
Love seeks its own bosom from falshood and lies
And lives in itself turning bitter to sweet
It dreams of a smile from its own favour'd eyes
And deceives its own heart from passions high heat.

2

I sigh with the wind and I moan with the trees
But the dew drops of tears are passions own flame
But Love will bloom fair after number of years
As it blossomed in Paradise — still its the same.
And so it will be Love, with you Love & me Love
Kept green in the soul to the end of the earth
'Twas so in thy infancy — so Let it be love
Love owns one Creator and no second birth.

3

'Tis a child of the Soul — not a thing of the clay
'Tis a tennant for heaven that never can die
'Tis a vision of joy that will ne'er pass away
So long as the sun lives the light of the sky —
For the Soul of earths nature is her clothing of green
And love in her essence is Heavens own light
And both are in Eden with Love all unseen
Where God is its being eternal and bright.