Classic Poem

“Doomest thou me,” quoth I, “my Sweet,
to dole again, I pine away.
Now have I found what I had lost,
must I forgo it, ere ever I end?
Why must I it both meet and miss?
My precious Pearl doth me great pain!
What serveth treasure but tears to make,
if one must lose it soon with woe?
Now reck I ne'er how low I droop,
how far men drive me from my land;
when in my Pearl no part is mine,
what is my doom but endless moan?”