Classic Poem

It fell one evening hour
When silence all was keeping,
I stole into the bower
Where Nellie lay asleeping.

She struggled hard to fly,
Her fingers fiercely tearing,
But soon with plaintive cry
She yielded to my daring.

Beneath me close embraced
I held her safe in cover.
Love spurred me on to haste,
And quick the race was over.

" You've had your will," she sobbed,
" And stolen all my treasure:
Next week another robbed
Will weep to make you pleasure."