Classic Poem

WHEREIN THERE IS NO REMEDY FOR HIS PAIN SAVE IN HER PITY OR IN DEATH

Daily the silvering hair, the changed demeanour
Reveal me, yet I cherish old sweet dangers,
Cling to the laurel, which is death to strangers,
Whose green leaf heat and cold alike leave greener.
The sea shall rot, the stars burn out, and leaner
This flesh become, but in a world of changers,
She changes not; the bright celestial rangers
Grow pale: her lovely shadow flames the keener.
Ah, wound I loathe yet love, until death loose me,
Never the fire in bone and nerve may leave me! —
Unless my dear foe soften and excuse me,
Until the impossible do not deceive me,
None save herself or death may gently use me
And bind the blaze by which her eyes abuse me!