Classic Poem

OF HIS FOOLISH PASSION FOR LAURA

So wayward is the madness of desire
In following her who turns from me in flight,
And who, at liberty, like air or light,
My love-encumbered chase eludes like fire,
That when the more I call, the more aspire
To point the safer path by left or right,
The less it heeds; to curb or to excite
Avails not: Love drives faster, fiercer, higher!
Thus, the triumphant bit between its teeth,
I must remain incapable and mute,
The while against my will it speeds my death
Straight to that laurel whose most fatal fruit,
Instead of healing, spreads its bitter breath
And nourishes the pain it should uproot.