Classic Poem

" Golden haired, lily white,
" Will you pluck me lilies;
" Or will you show me where they grow,
" Show where the summer rill is?
" But is your hair of gold or light,
" And is your foot of flake or fire,
" And have you wings rolled up from sight,
" And joy to slake desire? " —

" I pluck young flowers of Paradise,
" Lilies and roses red;
" A sceptre for my hand,
" A crown to crown my golden head.
" Love makes me wise:
" I sing, I stand,
" I pluck palm branches in the sheltered land. " —

" Is there a path to Heaven
" My heavy foot may tread;
" And will you show that way to go,
" That rose and lily bed?
" Which day of all these seven
" Will lighten my heart of lead,
" Will purge mine eyes and make me wise
" Alive or dead? " —

" There is a Heavenward stair —
" Mount, strain upwards, strain and strain —
" Each step will crumble to your foot
" That never shall descend again.
" There grows a tree from ancient root,
" With healing leaves and twelvefold fruit,
" In musical Heaven air:
" Feast with me there. " —

" I have a home on earth I cannot leave,
" I have a friend on earth I cannot grieve:
" Come down to me, I cannot mount to you. " —
" Nay choose between us both,
" Choose as you are lief or loath:
" You cannot keep these things and have me too. " —