Classic Poem

My life is not a mirrored sea,
Nor yet a limpid lake;
Life is no mass of type to me,
And not a printer's take.
My life's not like a virgin page,
Unlike a summer's night;
My life is not an empty stage,
Nor an electric light.

Your life, my love, is not a dream,
Nor eke a field of corn;
Your life's not like a threaded seam,
Nor like a dewy morn.
Nor jagged saw nor cutting knife
Your life reminds me of;
Unlike the pearly tear your life,
Unlike a smile, my love.

My life is far from like a lake,
As I observed before.
Yours is unlike an angel cake,
A table, or a door.

My life is not a ball or strike,
Yours is no beaded purse
I don't know what our lives are like,
So how can I write verse?

My life is not a mirrored sea,
Nor yet a limpid lake;
Life is no mass of type to me,
And not a printer's take.
My life's not like a virgin page,
Unlike a summer's night;
My life is not an empty stage,
Nor an electric light.

Your life, my love, is not a dream,
Nor eke a field of corn;
Your life's not like a threaded seam,
Nor like a dewy morn.
Nor jagged saw nor cutting knife
Your life reminds me of;
Unlike the pearly tear your life,
Unlike a smile, my love.

My life is far from like a lake,
As I observed before.
Yours is unlike an angel cake,
A table, or a door.

My life is not a ball or strike,
Yours is no beaded purse
I don't know what our lives are like,
So how can I write verse?