Classic Poem

Complaining of ABSENCE.

Ten days (if I forget not) wasted are
(A year in any Lover's Calendar)
Since I was forc'd to part, and bid adieu
To all my Joy and Happiness in you:
And still by the same Hindrance am detain'd,
Which me at first from your lov'd Sight constrain'd:
Oft I resolve to meet my Bliss, and then
My Tether stops, and pulls me back agen:
So, when our raised Thoughts to Heav'n aspire,
Earth stifles them, and choaks the good desire.
Curse on that Man, who Bus'ness first design'd,
And by't enthral'd a free-born Lover's mind:
A curse on Fate, who thus subjected me,
And made me slave to any thing but thee!
Lovers should be as unconfin'd as Air,
Free as its wild Inhabitants from Care:
So free those happy Lovers are above,
Exempt from all Concerns but those of Love:
But I, poor Lover militant below,
The Cares and Troubles of dull Life must know;
Must toil for that, which does on others wait,
And undergo the drudgery of Fate:
Yet I'll no more to her a Vassal be,
Thou now shalt make, and rule my Destiny:
Hence troublesom Fatigues! all Bus'ness hence!
This very hour my Freedom shall commence:
Too long that Jilt has thy proud Rival been,
And made me by neglectful Absence sin;
But I'll no more obey its Tyranny,
Nor that, nor Fate it self shall hinder me,
Henceforth from seeing and enjoying thee.