Bakery Prose

In the world of Hong Kong, baked goods are in surplus. Maxim's, one of HK's most prosperous chains, has a paragraph - a paragraph that I can only describe as glorious - printed on their bags.
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"My love is of a birth a rare As 'tis for object
strange and high: It was begotten by Despair
Upon Impossibility. Magnanimous Despair along
Could show me so diving a thing,
Where feeble Hope could ne'r have flown But
vainly flapt its tinsel wing. And yet I quickly
might arrive Where my extended Soul is fixt,
But Fate does iron wedges drive, And always
crowds it self betwixt. For Fate with jealous
eye does see Two perfect Loves; nor lets them
close: Their union would her ruin be, And her
Tyrannic pow'r depose. And therefore her
Decrees of Steel Us as the distant Poles have
plac'd, (Though Love's whole World on us doth
wheel) not by themselves to be embrac'd.
Unless the giddy Heaven fall, And Earth some
new Convulsion tear; And, us to join, the
World should all Be cramp'd into a
Plainsphere. As Lines so Loves oblique may
well Themselves in every Angle greet: But
ours so truly Parallel, Though infinite can
never meet. Therefore the Love
which us doth bind But Faye so
enviously debars, Is the
Conjunction of the Mind, And
Opposition of the Stars. My"
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This, my friends, I have quoted like I've never quoted anything else before.