Classic Poem

H E .

As long as I was dear to you, and none —
Not one, save I —
Dared lock his arms about your neck, the Sun
Saw no King happier underneath the sky.

She .

As long as you loved Lydia more than all,
And Chloe's face
Had not made Lydia's nought, men might me call
The happiest girl of all the Roman race.

H E .

Well! now, that 's past! and Chloe binds my heart
With lute and voice;
Whom so I love that, if Death's fatal dart,
Aimed at her life, struck mine, I should rejoice.

She .

Ah! yes — 't is past! I love a Thurian boy,
Who dotes on me;
And for his dear sake I would die with joy,
Nay, or twice over — were the thing to be.

H E .

But — just suppose — the old love could come back
As good as new!
That Chloe with her golden hair should pack,
And my heart open all its gates to you!

She .

Supposing that — oh! well! — my Thurian 's dear,
And you — alas!
Are wild as Adria, and more light than air,
Yet, Love! with you life and dark Death I 'd pass.