Classic Poem

If to be jealous is to hope to gain
Your every longing — make all other men
As misty to your memory as when
The shadows slip across a window-pane;
If to be jealous is to wish to reign
Your one true lover, chide me once again;
Call me as jealous as Othello then
And all your chiding will be given in vain.

For I am one who cannot hide my thought
And curb my tongue and make my cheek a liar;
The tissues of my nature was not wrought
Of lifeless clay, devoid of Pagan fire,
And long in storm and anguish have I sought
And now have found, at last, my Heart's Desire.