Classic Poem

I would be thine when morning breaks
On my enraptured view;
When every star her tow'r forsakes,
And every tuneful bird awakes,
And bids the night adieu.
I would be thine, when Phœbus speeds
His chariot up the sky,
Or on the heel of night he treads,
And thro' the heav'n's refulgence spreads—
Thine would I live or die.
I would be thine, thou fairest one,
And hold thee as my boon,
When full the morning's race is run,
And half the fleeting day is gone,
Thine let me rest at noon.
I would be thine when ev'ning's veil
O'er-mantles all the plain,
When Cynthia smiles on every dale,
And spreads like thee, her nightly sail
To dim the starry train.
Let me be thine, altho' I take
My exit from this world;
And when the heavens with thunder shake,
And all the wheels of time shall break,
With globes to nothing hurl'd,
I would be thine.