Classic Poem

As a white dove that, in a cage of gold,
Is prisoned from the air, and yet more bound
By love than bars, and will not wings unfold
To fly away, though every gate be found
Unlocked and open; so my heart was caught,
And linked to thine with triple links of love.
But soon, a dove grown wanton, false it sought
To break its chain, and faithless quite to rove
Where thou wouldst not; and with a painted bird
Fluttered far off. But when a moon was past,
Grown sick with longing for a voice unheard
And lips unkissed, spread wings and home flew fast.
And lo! what seemed a sword to cleave its chain,
Was but a link to rivet it again.