Behold, dear love, thou dost not love too soon
if pangs of fond desire fly from thy core
assailing aching loins to make thee swoon
in passion’s throes foreswearing all before.
Yet love too soon acceded to thy beau
may grow ineffable, may turn to ash,
no fire within thine hearth, no embers’ glow
to kindle more thy love thou gav’st too rash.
Or, too, it may o’erwhelm both loves as one
whose passions keep them as eternal flames
igniting each anew as moon and sun
reflecting one on one in lovers’ games.
Alas, dear love, thou shalt not love in vain
if letting pass, this love comes not again.
