Classic Poem

LAURA TURNS HIM TO STONE, WHEREFORE HE ENVIES INSENSATE THINGS

Had that same light which dazzles from afar
Moved but a little nearer to my eyes,
Like Phaebus in Thessalian disguise,
I should have changed my form in amorous war;
But if I cannot lose myself in her
More than I have — though it scarce win her sighs —
I should today a stonier enterprise
Present in aspect than a knife or bar
Or hammer ever hewed from adamant
Or frozen marble, out of fear, or proud
Jasper coveted by the greedy crowd.
Then were I from this yoke that makes me pant
Released, where now I envy Atlas' plight,
Who with his shoulders brings Morocco night.