Classic Poem

Beneath the tulip-tree,
O spirit I adore,
Come while the evening shadows hide
The clouds on yonder shore.
Above the waters dim,
Night like a dark bird broods,
And, like a mourner, the low wind
Sobs in the lonely woods.

From human love, my soul
In silent sorrow turns;
And while Arcturus through the trees
Like a red watch-fire burns,
With lifted face I cry
Beneath the tulip-tree,
O spirit of the beautiful,
Vouchsafe to dwell with me!

Love's flowers are very sweet,
But blossom to decay;
Love's singing birds are gay and bright,
Yet mocking-birds are they.
Twine with thy spirit-hands
White amaranths for my head,
And sing thy deathless spirit-songs
Around my midnight bed.

Bend low thy blessed eyes!
They have no human ray
To mock me with the treacherous light
That kindles to betray.
Oh, fold thy pinions white
Around my weary heart,
And say, though human love forsake,
Yet thou wilt ne'er depart.

Teach me the sacred lore
That whispers in the trees;
That writes within the lily's cup
Its strange, deep mysteries;
Lift to my thirsting lips
The cup of Thought divine!
Its pure cool draught is sweeter far
Than Love's red, flaming wine.

O rare and radiant guest,
O spirit I adore,
While sombre evening shadows hide
The clouds on yonder shore,
With lifted face I cry
Beneath the tulip-tree,
Thou spirit of the beautiful,
Forever dwell with me!