Classic Poem

This evening when I spake with thee, beloved,
as in thy face and in thy mien I saw
that I could not persuade thee with my words,
the longing came for thee to see my heart,

and love, a bettor of my purposes,
accomplished that which seemed impossible,
for issuing with the tears that sorrow shed
the heart dissolved in misery distilled.

Enough of cruelty, beloved, enough:
let my harsh jealousy torment thee not
nor vile suspicion violate thy virtue

with foolish shadows, vain appearances,
since now in aqueous humour thou hast seen
and held between thy hands my broken heart.