Classic Poem

1.

An Age in her Embraces past,
Would seem a Winters day;
Where Life and Light, with envious hast,
Are torn and snatch'd away.

2.

But, oh how slowly Minutes rowl,
When absent from her Eyes
That feed my Love, which is my Soul,
It languishes and dyes.

3.

For then no more a Soul but shade,
It mournfully does move;
And haunts my Breast, by absence made
The living Tomb of Love.

4.

You Wiser men despise me not;
Whose Love-sick Fancy raves,
On Shades of Souls, and Heaven knows what;
Short Ages live in Graves.

5.

When e're those wounding Eyes, so full
Of Sweetness, you did see;
Had you not been profoundly dull,
You had gone mad like me.

6.

Nor Censure us You who perceive
My best belov'd and me,
Sigh and lament, Complain and grieve,
You think we disagree.

7.

Alas! 'tis Sacred Jealousie,
Love rais'd to an Extream;
The only Proof 'twixt her and me,
We love, and do not dream.

8.

Fantastick Fancies fondly move;
And in frail Joys believe:
Taking false Pleasure for true Love;
But Pain can ne're deceive.

9.

Kind Jealous Doubts, tormenting Fears,
And Anxious Cares, when past;
Prove our Hearts Treasure fixt and dear,
And make us blest at last.