Classic Poem

Thy love is like a wondrous western sea,
Wherein I find strange isles, bright Indian lands,
With ruby-rolling streams, auriferous sands,
And sparkling temples built in jewelry;

And many a shady, incense-bearing tree,
With brighter birds than ours, by cool rill stands;
And unknown flowers younger from God's hands,
And butterflies, which seem those flowers set free.

A wondrous world, which I have reached alone
At peril of my life; and whence I bring
Gold ingots, pearls, and every glittering stone.

But in my soul is death with all its sting:
The pain and peril only are my own;
The ingots and the gems are for the King.