Classic Poem

Though words of ice be spoken

Though words of ice be spoken
And tears of fire be shed,
It seems Love's heart is broken,
And yet he is not dead:
Whate'er the wild voice utters
He breathes a still reply
A bird he is; he flutters
And yet can never fly.

Unchecked he came, unbidden;
Unnamed, unknown, he grew:
He wove, unsought, unchidden,
His old, old charm anew;
And now, though tears upbraid him,
He smiles and has his way;
A god he is! we made him,
And yet we cannot slay.English