Classic Poem

Life is not dear or gay
—Till lovers kiss it,
Love stole my life away
—Ere I might miss it.
In sober March I vowed
—I'd have no lover,
Love laid me in my shroud
—Ere June was over.

I felt his body take
—My body to it,
And knew my heart would break
—Ere I should rue it;
June roses are not sad
—When dew-drops steep them,
My moments were so glad
—I could not keep them.

Proud was I love had made
—Desire to fill me,
I shut my eyes and prayed
—That he might kill me.
I saw new wonders wreathe
—The stars above him.
And oh, I could not breathe
—For kissing of him.

Is love too sweet to last,
—Too fierce to cherish,
Can kisses fall too fast
—And lovers perish?
Who heeds since love disarms
—Death, ere we near him?
Within my lover's arms
—I did not fear him!

But since I died in sin
—And all unshriven,
They would not let me win
—Into their heaven:
They would not let my bier
—Into God's garden,
But bade me tarry here
—And pray for pardon.

I lie and wait for grace
—That shall surround me,
His kisses on my face,
—His arms around me;
And sinless maids draw near
—To drop above me
A virginal sad tear
—For envy of me.