Classic Poem

Why dost thou say thou lov'st me now,
And yet proclam'st it is too late,
When bound by folly, or by Fate,
Thou can'st no further grace allow?

Repeat no more that killing Voice,
Thou beauteous Victrice of my heart;
Or find a way to ease my smart,
Maugre thy now repented choice.

'Tis not too late to love, and do
What Love and Nature prompt thee to,
Whilst thus thou tryumph'st in thy prime;

Thou may'st discreetly love, and use
Those Pleasures thou did'st once refuse:
But to profess it were a Crime.