Classic Poem

I am the imp of stone that squats and leers
Upon the black cathedral front, up high;
With which they fright the children when they cry,
All warped and hunchbacked, with the great bat's ears,

And thou the beautiful straight queen that wears
The heavenly smile, while round her comes to die
The yellow sunshine that clings lovingly
To the old statues in their rigid tiers.

I love thee; but thou canst not love me back:
Thine eyes are turned elsewhere and see me not,
Deep in the shadow, lonely, chill, and black.

Thou, bathed in sunshine, love a crooked blot?
Nature would shriek; the earth would quake and crack;
And I should loathe thee as I loathe my lot.