Classic Poem

Inconstant? And why not, O fair Helene?
You have the bluest eyes I've ever seen,
Blue as the violets in that season when
The fields and hills are tinged with faintest green;
But you have not fair Marie's tender voice,
Or Constance's smile, in which all hearts rejoice.

Inconstant? Why? I love the good in all,
The good in one, and like the roving bee,
(Are you bas bleu , fair lady, will you call
My " roving bee " a threadbare simile?)
I go from flower to fruit, and I love each,
The faint-tinged rose-bud and the carmine peach.

I love you for your eyes, O fair Helene,
Your blue, blue eyes, so deep and limpid-clear,
In whose deep depths are drowned many men,
And for their deaths have you not shed a tear!
And yet I love dear Rosalind's shy grace,
And — can I help it? — little Celia's face.

I love the good in all, the good in one;
Too frank am I? Can't help it! 'tis my way.
If you'll be Clytie, I will be the sun,
And you can follow me about all day,
And yet I'll smile on all, and that will be
Love universal, not inconstancy.

Conceited? How you wrong me, fair Helene;
I'm not Apollo, and I know that well.
But you're not Clytie; if you were, why then
I'd follow you. Good gracious! who could tell
The girl would get so mad! A temper, true!
I'll never trust in meekest eyes of blue!