Classic Poem

I would that love were subject unto law!
Upon his person I should lay distraint
And force him thus to answer my complaint,
Which I, in well-considered counts, should draw.
Not free to fly, he needs must seek some flaw
To mar my pleading, though his heart were faint;
Declare his counsel to me, and acquaint
Himself with maxim, precedent, and saw.

Ah, I could win him with authorities,
If suing thus in such a sober court;
Could read him many an ancient rhym'd report
Of such sad cases, tears would fill his eyes
And he confess a judgment, or resort
To some well-pleasing terms of compromise!

To you, dear mother heart, whose hair is gray
Above this page to-day,
Whose face, though lined with many a smile and care,
Grows year by year more fair,

Be tenderest tribute set in perfect rhyme,
That haply passing time
May cull and keep it for strange lips to pay
When we have gone our way;

And, to strange men, weary of field and street,
Should this, my song, seem sweet,
Yours be the joy, for all that made it so
You know, dear heart, you know.