  WHY should you swear I am forsworn, Since thine I vowed to be? Lady, it is already morn, And ’twas last night I swore to thee That fond impossibility. Have I not loved thee much and long, A tedious twelve hours’ space? I must all other beauties wrong, And rob thee of a new embrace, Could I still dote upon thy face. Not but all joy in thy brown hair By others may be found; But I must search the black and fair, Like skilful mineralists that sound For treasure in unploughed-up ground. Then, if when I have loved my round, Thou prov’st the pleasant she; With spoils of meaner beauties crowned, I laden will return to thee, Even sated with variety. Richard Lovelace. |
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