Classic Poem

Bid me not sing: think of the gifts I gave
To love and thee; require me not to sing!
They who crown poets now must pass me by:
I have no claim to wear the bays they bring.
To please thy mood one day I broke my lute,
And now forever is my music mute.

Bid me not sing: since when thy mouth met mine,
“Love, love,” the only words my lips can say.
Lost is the cunning of my worshipped art;
Among my peers I must walk dumb alway.
For thee I counted song a worthless thing.
My heart will break if now thou bidst me sing!