Classic Poem

I.

With many a plant, with many a flower,
My lattice, my casement is gleaming,
In whose spreading bells, at midnight's hour,
Many a fairy lies dreaming.
To-night! to-night! when all are at rest,
(Unless, my love, you abhor it,)
I mean to think what 'tis I love best,
And ask some light fairy for it.

II.

Come, whisper me, love, within this bower,
What you count as the greatest blessing,
Supposing gifts came in a golden shower,
And you had your choice of possessing?
Yet stay — tears fast as the midnight dew
Will fall, if they cruelly use me;
I mean, my love, to ask them for you —
Do you think they've the heart to refuse me?