Love's Fool Poem by Kevin Maroney

I trust love to be worthy of my glance,
But love knows not what I trouble it to do
It barely troubles me to see askance
What know’st I how for it to shed as two?
I mean to make love as my champión,
But champions, as their heads loftéd so high
Often see mine as nothing, easy fun,
I mightn’t even bother to troubl’ng try.
But hark, what’s not but thrice to me?
Never, but not, your eyes are beut. as sun
For such, they sh’d deserve to trouble me
To reach for so much, I’d ask death to run.
You ease my asking with your lovely face
It seems to me to be a worthy race.