Classic Poem

Pray you, my master, let me keep my dream.
Of all sweet things have I not been bereft —
Of very youth, of very happiness?
Why should you covet this one fairing left?
Nay, grant me this. What slave could ask for less?
Pray you, my master, let me keep my dream.

Pray you, my master, leave to me this thing,
I, who was rich one day, to-day am poor
Beyond men's envying, save but for this,
This dream for whose glad sake I still endure;
All else you filched in that one Judas kiss.
Pray you, my master, leave to me this thing.

Pray you, my master, let me keep my dream.
O Love, I gave to you so much, so much —
Desire of joy, yea, and desire of tears —
Leave me this one dear solace in my touch,
This little lamp to light the desolate years.
Pray you, my master, let me keep my dream.