Classic Poem

Wert thou forthwith to die:
Were I
To linger toward a solitary death,
With ever mournful breath:
What life were that of mine,
Forlorn of thine?

Were I to leave thee now:
Wert thou
To keep, the maiden mate of loneliness,
Long vigils of distress:
Yet happier life were thine,
Released from mine.

We will not therefore part,
Dear heart!
Thy spiritual fire shall quicken me,
And fit me all for thee:
That thy soul may be mine,
And my soul thine.