Expect all harvest, dread no dearth,
Seal my sense up for your sake?
Oh, Love, Love, no, Love! not so, indeed!
You were just weak earth, I knew:
With much in you waste, with many a weed,
And plenty of passions run to seed,
But a little good grain too.
And such as you were, I took you for mine:
Did not you find me yours,
To watch the olive and wait the vine,