Classic Poem

My Heart was slaine, and none but you and I:
Who should I thinke the Murther should commit?
Since, but your selfe, there was no Creature by,
But onely I, guiltlesse of murth'ring it.
It slew it selfe; the Verdict on the view
Doe quit the dead, and me not accessarie:
Well, well, I feare it will be prov'd by you,
Th' evidence so great a proofe doth carrie.
But O, see, see, we need inquire no further,
Upon your Lips the scarlet drops are found,
And in your Eye, the Boy that did the Murther,
Your Cheekes yet pale, since first he gave the Wound.
By this I see, how-ever things be past,
Yet Heav'n will still have Murther out at last.