Classic Poem

The love you dare but look I find:
The eyes speak best the lover's mind;
The God of Love reveals the news,
Whose dart has stamped the billet-doux;
No paper could such sweetness boast,
For half the spirit would be lost
Ere I could read that duller way,
What in a moment these convey.
Oh! let thy eyes with truth be fraught,
Mine shall repay each modest thought.
Thus souls employ their hours above,
Exchanging looks of deathless love;
In looking wondrous magic lies,
Oh! there is poetry in eyes:
Methinks I see a Waller shine
In every sparkling beam of thine;
Or when in nobler language dressed,
With Milton's spirit they are blessed:
Thus Adam tenderly surveyed
With guiltless looks the blushing maid,
Who met his eyes unskilled in art:
They were no prudes but spoke her heart.
I want not thanks, confine your tongue,
Lest words should do the passion wrong.
Sure speaking only was designed
For the dull wretches of my kind,
For scandal, or for rude disputes.
But tender lovers should be mutes:
Grief is by silence well expressed,
And silence speaks the lover best;
Or if kind souls must sound at all,
Slow be the words and gently fall;
As winds that whisper, and with tremblings move
The newborn blossoms of the infant grove.