Classic Poem

I WENT to her who loveth me no more,
— And prayed her bear with me, if so she might;
For I had found day after day too sore,
— And tears that would not cease night after night.
And so I prayed her, weeping, that she bore
To let me be with her a little; yea,
— To soothe myself a little with her sight,
Who loved me once, ah! many a night and day.

Then she who loveth me no more, maybe
— She pitied somewhat: and I took a chain
To bind myself to her, and her to me;
— Yea, so that I might call her mine again.
Lo! she forbade me not; but I and she
Fettered her fair limbs, and her neck more fair,
— Chained the fair wasted white of love's domain,
And put gold fetters on her golden hair.

Oh! the vain joy it is to see her lie
— Beside me once again; beyond release,
Her hair, her hand, her body, till she die,
— All mine, for me to do with what I please!
For, after all, I find no chain whereby
To chain her heart to love me as before,
— Nor fetter for her lips, to make them cease
From saying still she loveth me no more.