Classic Poem

The moon had climbed the eastern hill
Which rises o'er the sands of Dee,
And from its highest summit shed
A silver light on tower and tree,
When Mary laid her down to sleep
(Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea);
When soft and low a voice was heard,
Saying, " Mary, weep no more for me. "

She from her pillow gently raised
Her head, to see who there might be,
And saw young Sandy, shivering, stand
With visage pale and hollow e'e.
" O Mary dear, cold is my clay;
It lies beneath the stormy sea;
Far, far from thee, I sleep in death.
Dear Mary, weep no more for me.

" Three stormy nights and stormy days
We tossed upon the raging main.
And long we strove our bark to save;
But all our striving was in vain.
E'en then, when terror chilled my blood,
My heart was filled with love of thee.
The storm is past, and I'm at rest;
So, Mary, weep no more for me.

" O maiden dear, yourself prepare;
We soon shall meet upon that shore
Where love is free from doubt and care,
And you and I shall part no more. "
Loud crew the cock, the shadow fled;
No more her Sandy did she see;
But soft the passing spirit said,
" Sweet Mary, weep no more for me. "