Of two fair virgins, modest, though admired, <br />Heaven made us happy; and now, wretched sires, <br />Heaven for a nobler doom their worth desires, <br />And gazing upon either, both required. <br />Mine, while the torch of Hymen newly fired <br />Becomes extinguish'd, soon - too soon - expires: <br />But thine, within the closing grate retired, <br />Eternal captive, to her God aspires. <br />But thou at least from out the jealous door, <br />Which shuts between your never - meeting eyes, <br />May'st hear her sweet and pious voice once more: <br />I to the marble, where my daughter lies, <br />Rush, - the swoln flood of bitterness I pour, <br />And knock, and knock, and knock but none replies.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-a-nun/
