Classic Poem

O would that enemy I dread, my fate,
Place me with you in some obscure retreat,
My wishes then would have their utmost bound,
And all I want in your dear arms be found.
By Love's soft passion willingly betrayed,
I'd court the idol which great Love has made,
Thy lovely face, my fancy's only joy,
Whose smiles revive me, and whose frowns destroy.
Yet you, too cruel to the truest heart
That ever loved you, hence resolve to part,
And leave me in return of all my love
A pain which no physician can remove,
No pow'r of reason ever can subdue,
Nor time nor place, nor all the world, [but you].