Classic Poem

Night , steal not on too fast: we have not yet
Shed all our parting tears, nor paid the kisses,
Which four days' absence made us run in debt,
(O, who would absent be where grow such blisses?)
The Rose, which but this morning spread her leaves,
Kiss'd not her neighbour flower more chaste than we:
Nor are the timely ears bound up in sheaves
More strict than in our arms we twisted be;
O who would part us then, and disunite
Two harmless souls, so innocent and true,
That were all honest love forgotten quite,
By our example men might learn anew!
Night severs us, but pardon her she may,
And will once make us happier than the day.