Classic Poem

To pass my days and nights with you,
That were my lot if I might choose it.
I pledge my life this word is true —
Alas, that fortune should refuse it.
I dwell two weary miles away,
The homeward road my toil will double,
And all the while I know I may
Have but the journey for my trouble.
For when I come, you are not there,
At least I may not come anigh you;
Or I am told that public care
Or private matters occupy you.
I would not grudge two miles and more
To greet my friend and sit beside him:
'Tis weary work to travel four
And, after all, to be denied him.