Classic Poem

Sweet Falsehoods, fare ye well!
That may not longer dwell
In this fond heart, dear paramours of Youth!
A cold, unloving bride
Is ever at my side —
Yet who so pure, so beautiful as Truth?

Long hath she sought my side,
And would not be denied,
Till, all perforce, she won my spirit o'er —
And though her glances be
But hard and stern to me,
At every step I love her more and more.