Classic Poem

O, turn not, dearest, on me so! — I cannot bear that grief of thine:
Thy sorrow stealeth to my heart, — there silently it feedeth mine.
The grief I feel, I would subdue, and then would wipe thy tears away;
But while I see thee sorrowing so, this gloom around my heart will stay.

O, let me only catch one smile, like morning's glance from drop of dew!
O, let the soft light flow again, that once so filled thy eye of blue!
O, tell me so, thy heart hath peace! — like withered flowers revived by rain,
Gay thoughts would open in my heart, and fond emotions bloom again.