Classic Poem

I'm in love, I am certain, this time;
Bear witness my dolorous sighs,
This dejection unfeigned and sublime,
And the Byronic gloom of these eyes.
Every charm of my darling one tries
More sweet than the rest to appear,
And my heart in its agony cries,
Ah me, she is dear, too dear!

All the glow of some tropical clime
Half hid 'neath her lily skin lies,
But her breath seems to whiten in rime
When to boldness she calmly replies.
'Twixt passion and distance she flies,
And I hope, though I tremble with fear,
While these words from my bosom uprise,
Ah me, she is dear, too dear!

For her sake I would plunge into crime,
Or with virtue the world would surprise;
My soul in her cause I'd begrime,
Or would mount to the star-spattered skies!
But I cannot by any surmise
Toward the port of her good favor steer,
So I murmur in dolorous wise,
Ah me, she is dear, too dear!

envoy.

She has taken my life for a prize
Without paying me even a tear,
And my sorrow I cannot disguise —
Ah me, she is dear, too dear!