Classic Poem

She who so madly loved the falling rain,
From clouds storm-shattered, and the sable gloom
Of nights tempestuous, has for long years lain
With my lost hope and passion in the tomb;
But her etherial spirit in content,
Now soars unfettered in its element.

When by the sea the twilight sadly wanes,
And when the gathering gray autumnal mist
Covers still beaches, and broad, barren plains
With hazy, vaporous films of amethyst;
A figure that I indistinctly see
Through its vague depths, continually follows me.

It passes near me on long winter eves,
When the soft snow, blurring the road from view,
Descends in crystal flakes upon the leaves,
Keeping some strange and ghostly rendezvous.
I feel a phantom presence as it flies
Reluctantly through dull and sullen skies.

When nights are starred, or in the splendent sheen
Of summer suns, I wait for it in vain;
But over me I can perceive it lean
In the swift, tenebrous torrents of the rain,
And with warm, dripping arms, in formless grace,
It clings to me in a supreme embrace.

Her soul, imperishable for all time,
Thus forms of all that falls from heaven a part,
And through the years, intangible, sublime,
Will keep fond memory vivid in my heart.

And that is why I love to wander so
In this mist-haunted land, and seek again
Her kisses wafted to me in the snow,
Her tears that fall upon me in the rain!