I worry to love thee, Sweet, becauseLoveis the ambassador of control;White flake of youth, adhering soTo my soiled raiment, thy bashful snowAt tenderest touch will shrink and go.My cardio, by many snares beguiled,has expanded timorous and wild.It would worry thee not at all,Wert thou not so harmless-small.Because thy arrows, not yet dire,Are nonetheless unbarbed with destined fire,I fear thee over hadst thou stoodFull-panoplied in womanhood.
I was very chill, and overworn, and sad,To be a girl got the only happiness I had.I walked the street since quiet as a mouse,Buying good garments, and fixtures for the house.
Like myself maybe not, wonderful youngster
My personal tunes are of thee, just what though we singOf day whenever performers are yet around the corner,Of nights, or the melancholy night,Of birds who o’er the reddening oceans wing;Of track, of fire, of gusts of wind, or mists that clingTo mountain-tops, of winter months all in white,Of streams that toward ocean bring their own trip,Of summertime when the flower is actually blossoming.i do believe no believed that just isn’t thine, no breathOf lifestyle we inhale beyond thy sanctity;Thou art the sound that silence uttereth,And of all audio thou artwork the sense. From theeThe audio of my personal track, and what it saithIs but the overcome of thy cardio, throbbed through myself.
Thou ways my personal day, twilight, noon, and eve,My Summer and my winter season, Spring and autumn;For character kept on thee some allThe feelings that can come to gladden or even grieveThe center period, with purpose to relieveFrom lagging sameness. Therefore manage these forestallIn thee these o’erheaped sweetnesses as pallToo fast, while the taster tasteless allow.So, through all humors thou ‘rt the same, sweet any:Doubt maybe not i really like thee well in each, whom seeThy continuous modification are changeful constancy.