Classic Poem

I

You love all, you say,
 Round, beneath, above me:
Find me then some way
 Better than to love me,
Me, too, dearest May!

II

O world-kissing eyes
 Which the blue heavens melt to;
I, sad, overwise,
 Loathe the sweet looks dealt to
All things—men and flies.

III

You love all, you say:
 Therefore, Dear, abate me
Just your love, I pray!
 Shut your eyes and hate me—
Only me —fair May!