Classic Poem

How faint those limbs! how dull that eye!
Like one new risen from her bed,
Your fragrant locks dishevelled lie,
Your cheek has lost its red.

A captive in the lists of love,
Are these the signs of your alarms?
Ah happy victor, who did prove
His prowess in your arms!

Or is it that in grief you pine
With passion still unsatisfied?
Dear sweetheart, then may it be mine
To clasp you to my side!