Classic Poem

I'm standing in the forest now,
The place, the hour the same;

And here the green leaves gleam1 and glow,*
And there, down in that lake below,
The tiny ripples flame.

The breeze sings like a summer breeze
Should sing in summer skies;
And tower-like rocks and tent-like trees*
In mingled glory rise.

The murmur of their boughs and streams2
Speaks pride as well as bliss;
And that blue heaven expanding seems
The circling hills to kiss.

But, where is he to-day, to-day?
No — whisper not to me —
" I will not, dreamer, only say*
Where may thy lover be;

" Is he upon some distant shore
Or is he on the sea;
Or is the heart thou dost adore
A faithless heart to thee? "

The heart I love and you deride
Is changeless as the grave,
And neither foreign lands divide
Nor yet the ocean's wave.

" Then why should trouble cloud that brow
And tears those eyes bedim,
Reply this once — is it that thou
Hast faithless been to him? "

I dreamt, one dark and stormy night,
When winter winds were wild

The continuation of this poem may have been on a separate leaf which has not been found.1 Cancelled in the manuscript.2 Cancelled in the manuscript.