Classic Poem

I will not heed the message that you bring!
That loveliest lady gave her cloak to me;
And who'd believe she'd give away a thing
And ask it back again! — 'Tis lunacy!

She knew that leaving her must make me grieve;
And for my going she had tender eyes!
... If some sweet angel sang it me, believe
I'd not believe that angel knew the skies!

The lovely Geraldine knows that the sting
Of want and woe is thrust deep into me:
I don't believe she'd do this kind of thing;
Nor treat a poet less than daintily!