Classic Poem

Wert thou as prone to yield unto my prayer
The thing, sweet virgin, which I ask of thee,
As to repeat, with all humility,
‘Pray you go hence, and of your speech forbear’;—
Then unto joy might I my heart prepare,
Having my fellows in subserviency;
But, for that thou contemn'st and mockest me,
Whether of life or death I take no care.
Because my heart may not assuage its drouth
Nor ever may again rejoice at all
Till the sweet face bend to be felt of man,—
Till tenderly the beautiful soft mouth
I kiss by thy good leave; thenceforth to call
Blessing and triumph Love's extremest ban.