Classic Poem

WHEREIN HE LIKENS HIS PLIGHT TO THAT OF A LIMED BIRD

Love in the grass beneath a laurel bough —
O flower of heaven that feeds my constant flame!
O tree whose shade doth bless and breathe my shame! —
Love spread a net of pearls and gold (O Thou
Most subtle god!) baited, as always, now
With the same seed he sows and reaps, the same
Which I desire, the bittersweet, and blame,
As Adam, its bright burning on my brow;
And the fierce radiance that disputes the sun
Fell flashing round about, and in her hand,
Whiter than snow, than ivory more bland,
Lay her lord's rope: so snared, their slave so won
Her speech like angels murmuring, the command
Of her mere self — hope, pleasure, passion and —