Classic Poem

O waving cypress! cheek of rose!
O jasmine-breathing bosom! say,
Tell me each charm that round her glows;
Who are ye that my heart betray;
Tyrant unkind! to whom I bow,
O life destroyer!—who art thou?

I saw thy form of waving grace!
I heard thy soft and gentle sighs;
I gazed on that enchanting face,
And looked in thy narcissus eyes;
Oh! by the hopes thy smiles allow,
Bright soul-inspirer!—who art thou?

Where'er she walks, amidst the shades,
Where perfumed hyacinths unclose,
Danger her ev'ry glance pervades—
Her bow is bent on friends and foes.
Thy rich cheek shames the rose—thy brow
Is like the young moon—who art thou?

The poet-slave has dared to drain
Draughts of thy beauty, till his soul,
Confused and lost in pleasing pain,
Is fled beyond his own control.
What bliss can life accord me now
But once to know thee!—who art thou?