Classic Poem

I wanted to be married
To a sprightly barber-lad,
But my parents wished to put me
In the convent dim and sad.

One afternoon of summer
They walked me out in state,
And as we turned a corner,
I saw the convent gate.

Out poured all the solemn nuns
In black from toe to chin,
Each with a lighted candle,
And made me enter in.

The file was like a funeral;
The door shut out the day;
They set me on a marble stool
And cut my hair away.

The pendants from my ears they took,
And the ring I loved to wear,
But the hardest loss of all to brook
Was my mat of raven hair.

If I run out to the garden
And pluck the roses red,
I have to kneel in church until
Twice twenty prayers are said.

If I steal up to the tower
And clang the convent bell,
The holy Abbess utters words
I do not choose to tell.

My parents, O my parents,
Unkindly have you done,
For I was never meant to be
A dismal little nun.