The door unto my heart is locked.
O woeful lock, where is thy key?
Thou tauntst me, enigmatic fiend:
Thy nature is a mystery.
One day when thou are sleeping well,
or weak or faint, not mine the choice,
I will take thou, use a spell
and turn thou, key; I shall rejoice.
I do not heed what people say
that thou unyielding shall not turn
for what yields to me that I may
unlock the luxuries that brightly burn?
And furthermore which keys hath choice?
The people are all fools.
I, desperate, wanting to rejoice,
Shall gaze at my own jewels.