Classic Poem

WHEREIN HE CRIES OUT UPON DEATH AND FINDS HIS ONLY RESPITE IN VISIONS

You have outraged, O Death, the sweetest face
That ever I knew, and drowned the deepest eyes;
Forcing the seals and shattering the device
Of a noble spirit, breaking the golden vase!
A flash — and I am stricken: O most base!
On those too lovely lips your thumb's weight lies,
That talked such music! And you bear my cries,
And I go blind with tears from place to place.
Assuredly my Lady helps me then
When Love and Pity lead her where I stand;
None else so medicines my sick despairs:
And if I could the wing-sweep of her hand,
Her words convey, I would transmute, not men
Alone, but hearts of tigers and of bears.