Classic Poem

Yes, I have said that on thy cheek
The rose and lilly sweetly blended;
Have thought whene'er I heard thee speak,
Thy voice the lute's soft tones transcended;
Have felt the magic from thy bright eyes glancing,
And gaz'd enamour'd on thy form entrancing.

Yes, I must own, from thee away,
I never aught of pleasure tasted,
But many a weary, lingering day,
In sighs, and gloomy sadness wasted;
Thy every grace in memory retaining,
For thee alone, each rival fair disdaining.

But now! no more on thee I rave,
Peace, health, and friendship's joys neglected:
Those days are past; no more thy slave,
I rove impassion'd or dejected:
I see thee now, nor feel my heart high-beating,
Nor think the hours with envious speed are fleeting.

Yet still I think that thou art fair,
As first when love my breast invaded;
For neither sickness, pain, nor care,
Thy beauty's peerless bloom hath faded:
Still in each tone, each look, each smile excelling,
A thousand nameless witcheries are dwelling.

Why then is fond affection flown?
And dost thou ask why thou art slighted!
Lady, not form or bloom alone,
Or tender voice, my soul delighted:
Thy mind as matchless as thy charms believing,
Well did I love—O, why wert thou deceiving!