Classic Poem

Though when I loved thee thou wert fair,
— — Thou art no longer so;
These glories all the pride they wear
— — Unto opinion owe.
Beauties, like stars, in borrowed luster shine;
And 'twas my love that gave thee thine.

The flames that dwelt within thine eye
— — Do now with mine expire;
Thy brightest graces fade and die
— — At once with my desire.
Love's fires thus mutual influence return;
Thine cease to shine, when mine to burn.

Then, proud Celinda, hope no more
— — To be implored or wooed,
Since by thy scorn thou dost restore
— — Thy wealth my love bestowed:
And thy despised disdain too late shall find
That none are fair but who are kind.