Classic Poem

How many Aprils have I roamed beside thee
O'er the brown hills where now alone I tread?
And though far realms of wonder now divide thee
From our dim world, I cannot deem thee dead.

I held thee in my arms while life was failing,—
Close in my arms and watched thy fluttering breath,
Till the red sunset in the west was paling
And twilight veiled the awful calm of death.

In that white calm I saw then and forever
The grandeur of thy spirit and its power;
E'en as its mortal vestment seemed to sever,
I saw the immortal bursting into flower.

That soul, so lofty in its isolation;
So strong in weakness, resolute in pain;
So self-reliant in its reprobation
Of servile arts and custom's iron reign;

Mid alien crowds alone, with none to know thee,
With nothing left behind thee to regret,
Save one sad heart that love's sweet debt dotHowe thee,
One lonely heart that never can forget.