Classic Poem

Out upon it, lack-a-day,
Foolishly I swore,
Vowed that I would keep away
For a week or more —
Now each day it seems a year;
I must break my oath I fear
And to-morrow see my dear
If I don't before.

Prithee, Venus, blot my word
On the mindful scroll,
Say my vow you never heard,
Wipe it from the roll.
Sure it would too cruel be
Angry gods as well as she
If they both should take from me
Punishment for toll.