Classic Poem

Breath of balm from foreign trees,
Scent of saffron on the breeze,
Fields abloom in leafy spring,
Winter apples ripening,
Silken robes worn by a queen,
Amber in maids' hands that's been,
Dark Falernian from a jar
When 'tis shattered—but afar,
Hyblan bees o'er garden beds,
Chaplets from rich feasters' heads,
Altars, where the incense burns,
Cosmus' alabaster urns—
Why say more? All fragrant scents,
If you mingle their contents,
Do no more than match the kiss
Of my lover. What is this?
Want to know his name? Ah, well,
Swear that you will never tell.
You say you've sworn already. That won't do.
Methinks, my friend, you want too much to know.