Classic Poem

Give me but thy heart, though cold;
I ask no more!
Give to others gems and gold;
But leave me poor.
Give to whom thou wilt thy smiles;
Cast o'er others all thy wiles;
But let thy tears flow fast and free,
For me , — with me!

Giv'st thou but one look, sweet heart?
A word, — no more?
It is Music's sweetest part.
When lips run o'er!
'Tis a part I fain would learn,
So, pr'ythee, here thy lessons turn,
And teach me, to the close,
All Love's pleasures, — all its woes!