Classic Poem

A LOVER SPEAKS.

When you are dead, my dainty dear,
And buried 'neath the grass,
Will something of you linger near,
And know me if I pass?

Last night you wore a wild, sweet rose,
To match your sweet, wild grace —
The only flower on earth that grows
I liken to your face.

I would that I that rose had been,
To bloom upon your breast!
One golden hour I should have seen —
What matter for the rest?

To-day you will not grant my prayer,
Or listen while I plead —
But when you dwell alone, down there,
It may be you will heed;

And then your silent heart will stir
With some divine, sweet thrill,
To know that I, your worshipper,
Through death am faithful still;

And something of you, lingering near,
May bless me if I pass —
When you are dead, my dainty dear,
And buried 'neath the grass.