If I have ever lived to feel pure love;
No footprint of that love did leave in me...

Shall I reveal how oft my thoughts are yours?
As plenty as the stars do maze the sky...

As she and I do lay 'neath summer's noon
I quarrel with the sun: who loves her more...

If you don't love me, then, do I love me?
For I within that love do view me whole...

Doubt all my words,
create shadows behind thine actions...

Should I inform these pages of our bed?
Could words have words for what is most unsaid...

Routinely lark, though this day depth therein,
bemused as why the warbling fluter turned...

Which season could compare to you my love?
Yes winter dreams are snowy as your skin...

Am reaped into the nether realms of grief
with piths embalming loves' corrosive drear...

If truest sleep shall take my love aloft
as brittle fate appears to favor course...

Conversing lover's tongue - I may neglect
to discourse plainly; love we hold as true...

(I)
My love would frown, if could, about this stone...