Classic Poem

My love can sing no other song,
But still complains I did her wrong.
Believe her not; it was not so,
I did but kiss her and let her go.

And now she swears I did — But what?
Nay, nay, I must not tell you that.
And yet I will, it is so sweet
As " te-he, ta-ha " when lovers meet.

But women's words they are heedless
To tell you more it is needless.
I ran and caught her by the arm,
And then I kissed her; this was no harm.

But she, alas, is angry still,
Which showeth but a woman's will.
She bites the lip and cries " fie, fie. "
And kissing sweetly away she doth fly.

Yet sure her looks bewrays content,
And cunningly her brawls are meant,
As lovers use to play and sport
When time and leisure is too too short.