Classic Poem

Thou wast my child, and to my heart more dear
Than to the sov'reign monarch of the deep
All the rich jewels that in casket rare
Beneath the billows he is said to keep.
But it was just that thy bold spouse should bear
Thee in his train t'ward Koshi's deserts wild.
Thou bad'st adieu; and since that hour, sweet child,
In ceaseless visions of remembrance clear
There seems to float the face for which I yearn,
The brows oblique as ocean's crested wave.
But I am old, and scarce love's pow'r to save
May stretch my life to welcome thy return.