Classic Poem

To be not jealous, give not love!
Rate not thy fair all fair above,
Or thou'lt be decked in green, the hue
That jealousy is bounden to.

That lily hand! Those lips of fire!
Those dewy eyes that spill desire!
Those mounds of lambent snow, may be
Found anywhere it pleaseth thee.

To turn! Then turn, and be not mad
Though all of loveliness she had:
— She hath not all of loveliness!
A store remains, wherewith to bless.

The bee, the bird, the butterfly,
And thou! Go, search with those that fly
For that, which thou shalt easy find
On every path, and any wind!

Nor dream that she be Seal and Star
Who is but as her sisters are!
And whose reply is, Yes and No,
To all that come, and all that go.

— I love! — Then love again, my friend;
Enjoy thy love, without an end! —
— I love ... Ah, cease! Know what is what,
Thou dost not love, if she love not!

For if thou truly loved her
From thee away she could not stir!
But, ever at thy side, would be
Thy self, and thy felicity!

Go, drape thee in the greeny hue!
Thou art not Love! She is not True!
And, no more need be said — Adieu!