Reading 'Hamlet'

1 The lot by the graves was a dusty hot land; The river behind -- blue and cool. You told me, 'Well, go to a convent, Or go marry a fool...' Princes always say that, being placid or fierce, But I cherish this speech, short and poor -- Let it flow and shine through a thousand years, Like from shoulders do mantles of fur. 2 And, as if in wrong occasion, I said, 'Thou,' else... And an easy smile of pleasure Lit up dear face. From such lapses, told or mental, Every cheek would blaze. I love you as forty gentle Sisters love and bless.