Classic Poem

I thought thee once my dearest friend,
But, to my cost, 'twas false, I found!
Didst thou that false esteem pretend,
Only to strike a deeper wound?
Didst rob me of what most I prize,
Foe to my peace, thou bane of social ties!

I die with envy at thy bliss;
That the sweet maid should let thee sip,
In many a filthy slabb'ring kiss,
The balmy sweetness of her lip!
But vengeance shall o'ertake thy crime,
And thou shalt live abhorr'd to latest time!