Classic Poem

LXIX

Within my breast I never thought it gain
Of gentle minds the freedom for to lose.
Nor in my heart sank never such disdain
To be a forger, faults for to disclose.
Nor I cannot endure the truth to gloze,
To set a gloss upon an earnest pain.
Nor am I not in number one of those
That list to blow retreat to every train.