Classic Poem

Feed her with the leaves of Love!
(Love, the rose, that blossoms here)!
Music, gently 'round her move!
Bind her to the cypress near!
Weave her 'round and 'round,
With skeins of silken sound!
'Tis a little stricken deer,
Who doth from the hunter fly,
Wandering here to droop, — to die,
Ignorant of her wound!

Soothe her with sad stories,
O Poet, till she sleep!
Dreams, come forth with all your glories!
Night, breathe soft and deep!
Music, 'round her creep!
If she steal away to weep,
Seek her out, — and, when you find her,
Gentle, gentlest Music, wind her
Round and round,
Round and round,
With your bands of softest sound;
Such as we, at night-fall, hear
In the wizard forest near,
When the charmed Maiden sings
At the hidden springs!