Classic Poem

Oh, ask not what is love, she said,
Or ask it not of me;
Or of the heart, or of the head,
Or if at all it be.

Oh, ask it not, she said, she said,
Thou winn'st not word from me!
—Oh, silent as the long long dead,
I, Lady, learn of thee.

I ask,—thou speakest not,—and still
I ask, and look to thee;
And lo, without or with a will,
The answer is in me.

Without thy will it came to me?
Ah, with it let it stay;
Ah, with it, yes, abide in me,
Nor only for today!

Thou claim'st it? nay, the deed is done;
Ah, leave it with thy leave;
And thou a thousand loves for one
Shalt day on day receive!