Classic Poem

THE FIFTEENTH YEAR FINDS HER EYES MORE FATAL THAN AT FIRST

No help this way! Ah, no escape that way!
Here burn her eyes, her eyes flame torches there:
Alas! too much of tyranny will tear
My foolish heart to pieces for its prey;
No quarter there! No flight! Love's latest ray,
Which night and morning haunts me everywhere,
Glows with such fury in this fifteenth year,
That it outdazzles passion's earlier day.
So far, so wide her eyes spread images
That, turn whichever way, I always see
Hers, or some sister-lights that drew from these.
Ah, such a forest from one laurel tree
Springs up that mine old cunning enemy
Amid the tangle tricks me at his ease!