Classic Poem

Sweet looks! and gracious words! no more shall I
Your votary bend? — Ye golden tresses! bands
Of Love, whose chain my captive soul demands,
And leads me on, impatient of reply,
Till Death shall close the unavailing sigh! —
Celestial beauty, which these pious hands
Could ne'er propitiate, nor in distant lands
My heart could soften, or my verse could fly! —
Alluring smiles! — and Love's insidious hour
Of joy, that soothes me to betray, farewell!
No more I feel your vernal ray divine
Cheer me: — The Winter's day begins to lour: —
No more my hopes against their doom rebel;
And I must leave, unbless'd, the hallow'd shrine.