Classic Poem

MAN , man loves his steed,
For its blood or its breed,
For its odour the rose, for its honey the bee;
His own haughty beauty
From pride or from duty;
But I love my love, because — he loves me .

Oh, my love has an eye,
Like a star in the sky,
And breath like the sweets from the hawthorn tree;
And his heart is a treasure,
Whose worth is past measure;
And yet he hath given all — all to me!

It crowns me with light,
In the dead of the night,
It brightens my journey by land and sea;
And thus, while I wander,
I sigh and grow fonder,
For my love ever grows with his love for me.

Why didst thou depart,
Thou sweet bird of my heart?
Oh! come back to my bosom, and never flee:
I never will grieve thee,
I 'll never deceive thee,
But love thee for ever, — as thou lov'st me .