Love is not to be a fickle heart's friend.
If thy love is inconstant and impure,
Let me not to love, if love doth offend;
For only temptation and lies there stir.
But if thy love comes softly as doves' wings,
As the sun doth shine in the longest day,
Love's pure light will herald the angels' sing.
Come softly, wings of love, with no delay.
Light the torch of my heart to burn with love,
That our love can shine forth and shame the sun.
Our love not removed shall be there prove,
The glory of love to which has begun.
Grave is the day when our light doth not shine.
My wish is to have our light to be mine.