Classic Poem

Plead my love, O gentle maiden!
Plead my love, O love!
The pearls beneath the sea
Seduce the spirit above.

But thy flourished grace
That clasped my shoulder to thine,
Like rocks near the surf, abases—
And the waves with their huge repine.

The quality of the soft-grown statue—
That which memory can ne'er conceive—
Ah! thou art the very joy of the marrow
That lies deeply hidden beneath.

I shut mine eyes and cannot see
The depth of thy inner gift;
I might as well play blindman's buff
In thy charm that is oft adrift.

Seeming self, 'tis you; not seeming
Thou tearest me, drunk with dreams.
Thy youth, thy startling figure, attracts;
In the memory of the soul it beams.

O piercing maiden, O dear joy's love!
Thy voice, thy rippling mirth …
Ah there! the bard—what is he to you?
Only a pillar to thy sooth.