Classic Poem

" LOVE , your love — speak low —
Now, give it now to me,
Your pride? Let it go, let it go.
Your wealth? Let it sink in the sea.
Women like you should be poor;
Gold upon beauty is vain:
Love, O lady, be sure
Is loveless without some pain.
Let the triumph of love be seen;
Come poor to me, poor, my queen. "

The lady rose at length,
And looked to earth and sky;
She laughed in her loving strength,
And flung her bracelets by;
She scattered her wealth abroad,
She donned a homespun gown,
And said, as she took the road:
" Now, sweetheart, we shall go down
Where poverty reigns as queen,
That the triumph of love may be seen. "