Classic Poem

Sweet Love, mine only treasure,
For service long unfeigned,
Wherein I nought have gained,
Vouchsafe this little pleasure,
To tell me in what part
My Lady keeps my heart.

If in her hair so slender,
Like golden nets entwined,
Which fire and art have fined;
Her thrall my heart I render
For ever to abide
With locks so dainty tied.

If in her eyes she bind it,
Wherein that fire was framed,
By which it is inflamed,
I dare not look to find it;
I only wish it sight,
To see that pleasant light.

But if her breast have deigned
With kindness to receive it,
I am content to leave it,
Though death thereby were gained:
Then, Lady, take your own,
That lives for you alone.