Classic Poem

Not lips of mine have ever said:
" Would God that I were dead! "
Nay, cruel griefs! ye cannot break
My love of life; nor can ye make
Oblivion blest in any wise,
Nor death seem sweet for sorrow's sake.
Life! life! my every pulse outcries
For life, and love, and quickened breath,
O God, — not, not for death!