Classic Poem

Shall I look to ease my grief?
No, my sight is lost with eyeing:
Shall I speak and beg relief?
No, my voice is hoarse with crying:
What remains but only dying?

Love and I of late did part,
But the boy, my peace envying,
Like a Parthian threw his dart
Backward, and did wound me flying:
What remains but only dying?

She whom then I lookëd on,
My remembrance beautifying,
Stays with me though I am gone,
Gone and at her mercy lying:
What remains but only dying?

Shall I try her thoughts and write?
No, I have no means of trying:
If I should, yet at first sight
She would answer with denying:
What remains but only dying?

Thus my vital breath doth waste,
And, my blood with sorrow drying,
Sighs and tears make life to last
For a while, their place supplying:
What remains but only dying?