Classic Poem

" You spare no trouble, reck no pain, to add another name unto the bead roll of the hearts you've slain. "

Full many a bard, in many a tongue,
Hath told the praises of the fair;
In burning words their songs were sung
To those they held beyond compare.
Alas, now my poor heart is bare!
Dan cupid hath assessed his toll,
And love, perforce, I must declare —
And add my poor name to thy bead roll.

" Good Luck hath he that deals with none "
Thus did the sad-glad villon write.
Pray was he fool — or wisdom's son
That he should thus thy sex indict?
A look at thee would sure incite
The jaded senses of his soul —
Ergo, I prithee, in thy might,
To add my name to thy bead roll.

Oh, dante, tasso, petrarch, all
Who've known the pain of blind love's dart,
Is there no freedom from this thrall?
Is there no unguent for this smart?
Tell me, I pray, earth-born astart?
Shall I thus voice a plaintive dole?
With all the world I'd gladly part
To add my name to thy bead roll!

Envoy.

Duchess, so wondrous fair thou art,
I'll pledge thee in one brimming bowl,
And ask thee only this, dear heart:
Add my poor name to thy bead roll!