Classic Poem

I.

A lover often has been blessed
With a soft hand in secret pressed,
Or with a glance, or with a sigh,
Or with some other foolery
Of silent love.
II.

And should the nymph with roseate charms
Glide through night's darkness to his arms,
Nestling there while Scandal sleeps,
Sweet are the joys till daylight peeps
Of silent love.

III.

But bitter are the lover's woes
When love no symptom dares disclose;
When to the fair who fires his breast,
Not e'en a look must be expressed
Of silent love.

IV.

Then stolen pangs his sleep destroy,
And wring him like the Spartan boy,
Who never would his theft impart,
But cloaked it till it gnawed his heart
Like silent love.