Classic Poem

I have not wealth, I have not power,
If, maiden, these would make thee mine,
'Twas on an inauspicious hour
My Natal Star began to shine.
Oh! had its rays, like thine, been bright,
This heart had loved as it does now,
And from Affection's fount contrite,
Poured forth to thee its dearest vow.

Of thee no other thing I crave,
Than thy young heart so fondly dear,—
But, ah! I mount a higher wave
Than suits my humble bark to steer.
Thy sparkling eye, thy dimpled cheek,
The matchless beauties of thy mind,
Are all that I so fondly seek,
And more than I can hope to find.