Classic Poem

Tis hard to share her smiles with many!
And while she is so dear to me,
To fear that I, far less than any,
Call out her spirit's witchery!
To find my inmost heart when near her
Trembling at every glance and tone,
And feel the while each charm grow dearer
That will not beam for me alone.

How can she thus, sweet spendthrift, squander
The treasures one alone can prize?
How can her eyes to all thus wander,
When I but live in those sweet eyes?
Those syren tones so lightly spoken
Cause many a heart I know to thrill;
But mine, and only mine, till broken,
In every pulse must answer still.