Classic Poem

Long, long enough, have I on love enlarged,
Wasting on idle theme my idle prime; —
Not that I mean with folly may be charged
Whate'er is not devotional in rhyme.
But grant, that, from them shall result no crime,
Yet human loves are vain, and end in air.
Whereas that love which mounts on wings sublime
Towards heaven, as everlastingly is fair,
As sources whence it rose imperishable are.