Once did my thoughts both ebb and flow,
As passion did them move,
Once did I hope, straight fear again,—
And then I was in love.
Once did I waking spend the night,
And tell how many minutes move,
Once did I wishing waste the day,—
And then I was in love.
Once, by my carving true love's knot,
The weeping trees did prove
That wounds and tears were both our lot,—
And then I was in love.
Once did I breathe another's breath,
And in my mistress move,
Once was I not mine own at all,—
And then I was in love.
Once wore I bracelets made of hair,
And collars did approve,
Once wore my clothes made out of wax,—
And then I was in love.
Once did I sonnet to my saint,
My soul in numbers move,
Once did I tell a thousand lies,—
And then I was in love.
Once in my ear did dangling hang
A little turtle-dove,
Once, in a word, I was a fool,—
And then I was in love.
—Robert Jones