Classic Poem

Cease, cease reproachful eyes! I have not done
Aught, that should bring me ever this unrest.
Tell me my fault! Have end! Search, one by one,
All possible errors, which have Time possessed:
I swear you, naught upon me shall you prove;
Unless it be a fault in me to love.

Oh! were you here with me, that I might speak
No matter what unheeded words, and vain;
I would persuade me, that the look I seek
Was given: but for me there must remain,
Beneath the one, unalterable guise,
This torture. Nay! Cease, cease; relentless eyes!