- The first time that the sun rose on thine oath
- To love me, I looked forward to the moon
- To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon
- And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.
- Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;
- And, looking on myself, I seemed not one
- For such man’s love!—more like an out-of-tune
- Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth
- To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,
- Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.
- I did not wrong myself so, but I placed
- A wrong on thee. For perfect strains may float
- ’Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced,—
- And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat.