Robert Laurence Binyon
O Crudelis Amor!
It was Spring, the sweet Spring, when first I met with Love.
Suddenly I raised my eyes; and he stood there.
He was so beautiful, I could not look elsewhere.
For joy I could not speak; I gazed but could not move;
But all my body trembled, as he spoke and stole,
With his voice's wonder, my surrendered soul.
Ah, why was there none nigh, to whisper me, Beware?
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