Classic Poem

Where'er thou art, my heart shall know thy tone,
As silent string will feel the tensioned bow;
Whether in sunshine or in shade, alone,
Thy soul shall speak mine, and my soul will know.

For we have plucked the golden Eden tree,
Where tempter never breathed, nor woman fell;
Together joy has come to you and me, —
Together we have drained the lees of hell.

Where'er thou art, thy string the chord must give
Unto the bow, that is my quivering soul;
Dark comes, life fades, but Love, ah! God! shall live,
To shame defeat, to quicken at the goal.