Classic Poem

O that my tongue had been as dumb,
As now I find
My eyes were blind,
When they did make my heart become
A votary unto a saint,
That hath no ears to my complaint.

Had I but made my eyes my tongue,
My very looks
Had serv'd for books
Wherein she might have read her wrong;
But now my words as charms she fears,
And serpent-like doth shut her ears.

Yet who would not have cried for aid,
Burnt to the quick,
A senseless stick
To Vulcan's tyranny betray'd —
Wilt waste itself in moist expense,
And keep a noise as if 't had sense.

Speak then must I, tho' to no end,
For love doth say
That silence may
Much more than friendly speech offend —
Love once profess'd, and then forborne,
Turns deaf neglect to spiteful scorn.