Classic Poem

Years have passed since I knew thee and proved thee,
O Solitude, wisest and best—
Since the tears of my first passion moved thee
To sing to my spirit of rest.
Years have passed; I have wandered, forsaking
Thy temple and teachings, and taking
No thought of thee. Thou hast been making
For me loving quest.

I return to thee now. I am weary.
The throng will not miss me, nor I
Find thine innermost dim court a dreary
Retreat; let the pageant pass by.
And slowly he comes that went springing,
And dolefully he that went singing,
No laurel leaf holding, and bringing
No hope but to die.

Oh, tenderly draw me and fold me
In raiment of thine pure and sweet.
Let thine arms as in other days hold me
In peacefulest dreams at thy feet.
Let there be no more bitter heart-ailing;
Let me sleep and forget unavailing
Desire and the hope ever failing—
The draught incomplete.