Classic Poem

Fond as the answering bird complains
To its lover on the plains
So to thee I tell my pains
O let me love thee Mary
Fondly as the whispering dove
Courts his mistress in the grove
Do I turn to thee my love
O let me love thee Mary

As the Ivy climbs the tree
Twining round in extasy
With thy arms encircle me
& say thou lovest me Mary
As the little bird is prest
By its lover in its nest
O take me to thy throbbing breast
& own thou lovest me Mary