Classic Poem

Hold high your gallant head
Because I love you:
But nothing, when we're dead,
Can I have of you.

So with my wholesome lust
I will acquaint you
And with what words I must
My picture paint you:

My folly—and my wit
That marked and found you,
My arms that quaintly fit
When they're around you.

Dear trouble, dark delight
Since first I met you—
Oh now, for peace to-night
Let me forget you.

No woman ever bred
Can rise above you:
Hold high your gallant head
Because I love you!