Classic Poem

Bright is thy form, and fair thy face,
Thy look is love, thy motion grace;
Yet, Delia, though these charms may please,
I ne'er had lov'd so well for these.
Thy manners gentle, temper mild,
By slow degrees my heart beguil'd,
By easy steps upon me stole,
And unperceiv'd possess'd my soul,
Before I knew my heart was gone,
Already it was all your own;
Unable now to break my chain,
Your willing captive I remain.