Classic Poem

COUSIN , I wear

This bluntness as a shield. But, when you come,
Straightway I strip my bull-hide armour off,
And bare my heart before you. Should you kill me,
Why so; I'll die more loyally than the fool
Who whispers of love through tears. I never weep.
Sometimes I shake, indeed, as oaks rent down
Shake in the blast; but not a groan comes forth,
To tell what pain dwells inwards. Pity me!
Love me, sweet cousin! If thou'lt lend me a grain
Of that same precious heart, I'll pay thee back
With tons of trouble.