Classic Poem

WHEREIN HE RELATES THE STORY OF HIS FALL

By one delicious headlong doom to harrow
My soul for crimes too small for designation,
As might some crafty coward take his station,
Once more by stealth Love seized his bow and arrow;
My courage watched with glances swift and narrow,
Guarding the too weak eyes without cessation,
When his proud dart, with sudden penetration
Where earlier foes had failed, pierced the heart's marrow.
Thrown off my guard by that assault I found
No will to strive, no respite in the fight,
No weapon strong to meet my pressing need,
No shelf of safe if difficult upper ground
Where I could shield and mend my desperate plight —
Whence even now I look for help — and bleed.