Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Back to the poetry

Love me not for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face,
Nor for any outward part,
No, nor for a constant heart:
For these may fail or turn to ill,
So thou and I shall sever:
Keep, therefore, a true woman's eye,
And love me still but know not why -
So hast though the same reason still
To doat upon me ever!

Anon circa 1600.

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