Classic Poem

  A. I REMEMBER ,
When first she saw him, how her dark orbs drew
His soul aside. Her voice, (that sweet witch-music,)
Bound him in trance; and so she floated round,
Taking him prisoner with her golden hair;—
  B. Almost a Parasite?
  A. 'Twas even so:
She wound about him, with her leaves and thorns;
Hid him in roses, preyed upon his strength;
And so at last he perished. Peace be with him!