Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Let me not to marry the loveless mind
Admit perfectly; love is not love
That he likes evil mind
Or bends with the scissor to cut or kill:
Oh, no, it is a black mark
That looks on hot tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering yelling,
Whose matter's unknown, although his life is taken?
Love's not times'fading, though beautiful eyes and smile
Within his bending sick's mind come;
Love alters nor with his quick hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to give me a break.
If this were mistakes and upon me improved
I never accept or admit such love