Classic Poem

Heart, seek her heart who dwells apart,
And plead to be her guest,
That in her grace she grant you place
To lie upon her breast.

There, 'twixt those hills where sweetly thrills
The current of her life,
In fragrant rhyme, forget all time,
All fear, or pain, or strife.

Nor lightly prize light from her eyes,
Her smiles that sweetly bless,
If fingers soft should touch thee oft,
Or her red lips caress.

But oh, mark this, to never miss
The tale her heart doth tell;
That doth repeat in every beat
How she doth love me well.

So, heart of gold, thy quest unfold—
As I thy course have sped;
Nor backward speed unless, indeed,
She wants my heart instead.