On thee for beauty and the sins thereof,
On me for this infirmity of love.
Oft-times she will not speak to me at all,
Or if she deign to speak, the words that fall
Cold from her haughty lips are words of blame:
—I know thee not—I have not heard thy name!
Deep in my memory was graved the trace
Of all I suffered since I saw thy face;
But now, Belovéd, thou hast come to me,
I have erased the record utterly.