Classic Poem

I made no use of pretext or defense;
I valued virtue, only to bestow;
Like white, high noontide, glaring and intense,
Love drowned the world of reason in its glow.
To be beloved by Abelard—that thought
Absorbed all other purposes like flame,
Such havoc passion in my bosom wrought,
I banished honor, and invited shame.
I thrust out duty, and installed desire;
I aimed at nothing but possessing you.
Oh, God, could I but quench with tears the fire
Of memory of those delights we knew!
Could I forget, or grieve for what was done,
Divine forgiveness might be sought, and won.