Classic Poem

The song I heard at the river's bend,
Mellowed across the foaming " rip, "
That night in June when my pulses stirred
To the dream my heart let slip, —
This is all I remember now
When the bees come back to the linden bough.

The song I heard and the face I saw
While through the dusk I loping sped
Like some grey wraith the winds might draw
Across the sunset's red; —
This is all I remember now
When June has sweetened the linden bough.

I heard her scream as I passed the door, —
The low log doorway where she stood; —
It blended and passed with the rapid's roar
As I plunged through the hollow wood;
And my heart grows wild with the memory now
When the bees are back on the linden bough.

Fierce gods who made me half man, half brute,
Why add this bitter last touch to my pain?
Am I less than the reddening willow-shoot
You soothe in the white spring-rain?
Yet me you torture to madness now
With the bloom and the bees on the linden bough.