The sincerest love the heart might compose,
May not be born in the resplendant rose;
But falls sweet as dew, from the humble leaf,
Pluck'd from ardent flow'rs that illume vast grief;
Yet if this love is known, by God or man,
Then my love, accept! Failure as thy plan;
For thou should face deepest sorrow as thine,
Should chance lift thee t'wards the unending shine!
So swing thy bow, tis false evil thee ward,
As thy feign'd desire is a piercing sword;
Baptiz'd through art on Oblivion's bright shore,
In death perhaps, thou should haunt me no more;
The truth in thine eyes, bids my heart forlorn,
An Angel thy be, but not without horns.
Iam notThou
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-angel-thy-be/
