Classic Poem

Written in a Volume of beautiful but unknown Poems.

Time, when in after years thou wing'st thy flight,
Over the grave of him whose spirit here
Tells of its fleeting joy — its lasting blight —
Its shadowy hope — its agonizing fear —
Shall there be none the sympathetic tear
Of fancy-kindled bitterness to shed?
No eye to which these pages shall be dear, —
No kindred soul to angel Poesy wed,
To mourn over the unremembered bier
Of a young Minstrel slumbering with the dead?
None! for while living , to oblivion fast
The Poet and his songs are hastening on;
Care's chilling clouds are o'er his bosom cast,
And ere his fame begins, his hopes are gone!