Classic Poem

Love may be increased by fears,
May be fann'd with sighs,
Nurst by fancies, fed by doubts;
But without Hope it dies!
As in the far Indian isles
Dies the young cocoa-tree,
Unless within the pleasant shade
Of the parent plant it be:
So Love may spring up at first,
Lighted at Beauty's eyes; —
But Beauty is not all its life,
For without Hope it dies.