Classic Poem

Ah! sweet, why did you come
Unto my humble door?
Why did you knock with cold
Sure hand? You knew that I
Could not withstand,—you knew
That I would let you in,
Would stretch my poor arms wide
In welcome shy but true,
Would kneel before you,—kiss
With humble lips your feet,
Believing you to be
My dream-dove, longed-for, king:
Why did you take my hand
So calmly and assured?
Why did you smile into
My eyes, vain, idle, thoughts?
Why did you whisper in
My ear delicious dreams?
Ah! sweet, my cruel sweet,
Why did you do these things?
My woman-heart was but
A folded bud before
You came, but with you near
Where it might see the sun
Your face, where it might
Feed upon your words, your smiles,
It grew, and bloomed, and glowed,
Because it loved, it loved
Why did you make it bloom?
Would 'twere a folded bud
Why did you watch it grow
With fierce and jealous eyes?
Why did you drink and drink
Its fragrance to the full?
Why did you tear its leaves
With harsh and treacherous hands?
Why did you trample it
Beneath your brutal feet?
Why did you laugh meanwhile
With loud and scornful glee?
Ah! sweet, my cruel sweet,
Why did you do these things?
Why is it that my one,
Mad, wish is but to die
Where I may see your face
May hear your mocking voice?
Why is it hate for you
Cannot survive within
This breast? Why is it that
I must forgive you all
You did or left undone,
And why? Ah! why must this
Be too my added curse,
That I must love you, sweet,
And love you just the same?