Classic Poem

What ! bid me seek another fair
In untried paths of female wiles?
And posies wreathe of other hair,
And bask secure in other smiles?
Thy friendly stars no longer prize,
And light my course by other eyes?

Ah, no!—my dying lips shall close,
Unalter'd love, as faith, professing;
Nor praising him who life bestows,
Forget who makes that gift a blessing.
My last address to Heaven is due;
The last but one is all—to you.